Enough
by NickeltheRed
Summary: Therefore, as long as she wanted this, wanted what his world could offer her, it was enough. Jareth/Sarah drabbles. A full collection. Chapters re-edited.
1. Enough

**I do not own the rights to the original_ Labyrinth_ storyline, so on and so forth. Read and review, thank you for the time.**

****This little piece is around three years old, haha. Just found it again last night. I remember writing it in high school science during a documentary.****

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><p>Jareth knew that he would never own Sarah completely as he had once desired. He easily recognized that her heart would forever hold courage. That she would always have her own opinions to share...whether he cared for it or not. She would eternally be her own person.<p>

Nevertheless, she finally chose him, and she chose the Labyrinth. She chose the Underground Realm over her own dear mortal world, the land of Abovegrounders. And she now, remained at the Castle Beyond on her own accord. Sarah had confirmed this is what she wanted each time he would inquire if she felt differently.

She _wanted_ to love him, regardless if she did not quite fear him. And she permitted him to rule her, even though it was to a certain extent.

But still, she always would be the Sarah he knew so well, and she'd always be the maiden filled with fire and ice, who was capable of making him bend to her every wish at one moment or another.

Therefore, as long as she wanted _this_, wanted what his world could offer her, it _was _enough.

As long as she stayed, he would be content. It was defiantly—enough.


	2. Awoken

A significant chain of events could change a person. For better, or for the worst. Sure; that much was self-explanatory.

In her case though, Sarah honestly wasn't certain which path her quest had urged her to tread.

True, she grew less spoiled and childish later on. She bloomed into a woman in a matter of hours, believing she'd been doing the right thing. She was forced to make an advanced decision, unlike what other girls her age had to prepare for.

Her father was impressed at her newfound maturity. Karen was just taken by surprise.

But yet, realized the aftermath of her conquer, may have awakened something deep within her.

Some force, a type of power, it seemed. Because at times, strange things happened. One thing would be like it was, and then she'd give it a double-take, and it would be altered. Lamps would spontaneously turn on upon her entrance to the room, and so forth... before long Sarah suspected it had to be her doing in some way or another.

She may have been more adult nowadays, but that only caused her to be treated as one. It made her want adult things. Her words were growing sharper, her mind wiser. Her attitude was developing a more prideful, brave aspect, _cruel_ even.

Once magic touched a person, it wasn't as easy to disregard.

She'll never be rid of the memories. Was that for the better, or the worst?


	3. Sad Love

His voice was unbelievably sturdy, even considering how much sting and revulsion he privately carried inside his heart. "Do not defy me, Sarah."

She refused to look up from the novel in her hold. "Don't talk to me."

"We have to talk about this. I have to talk to you."

"Then in that case: I must defy you."

They were winding round in a vicious cycle.

"What have I done now to upset you to this point?"

"You're reckless." Sarah affronted.

"And you are impulsive."

"You're too arrogant."

"You still take things for granted."

Such a sad love they shared.


	4. Funny Things, Birds

Andrew never figured out why it took place. Nor he had expected other peers to even take the time to notice the situation. Well, even if fellow bystanders had noticed it, he doubted they'd fuss over it.

It was a subtle detail. Not that he stepped over certain social boundary lines, obsessed with the facts, oh no. He just happened to be an observant person in general.

It simply captured his attention because he and Sarah were placed in the same reading group.

And spending the majority of school hours studying with her, it'd just become more evident.

These days he caught sight of it when she walked from the campus to the café for work, or to the park for their nature study assignment, or wherever really.

It followed her everywhere. It perched any available place near her—rooftops, tree branches, fence borders, flag poles, street signs, stair railings. It definitely exhibited strange behavior for its usually-nocturnal kind.

Andrew always meant to ask Sarah about the creature, but the timing never seemed that appropriate. There were moments when he unintentionally saw her gaze drift in its direction too. But all in all, it appeared as if Sarah preferred to ignore it. And as a friendly acquaintance, he would respect that.

Sarah currently shut her Biology textbook once they finished the day's chapter, and began to repack her shoulder bag. "Okay, Andrew, I'm off to English now."

As she strolled away while waving goodbye to him, he curiously watched that funny owl spread its wings and soar over to the Languages Hall as well.


	5. Kiss or Flight

The itch Sarah felt to backtrack was far too great.

Though if she ran, he more than likely would laugh and take her apparent step-down as his triumph. Running away proved she was only fearful of him.

The thickness of his breaths indicated that he was even closer.

Sarah estimated by this point, if she inclined in only a tad, she would touch him.

She remained rigid in her spot, eyes shut. His hand that had reached out moments ago, resting on her back, now drew her in carefully, granting her each passing second to flee before she was pressed against him.


	6. Fairness and Equality

They were alone. And he was jealous.

"That's not fair, Jareth," she said. "And this time, I mean it."

He stood, stoic and silent, a foot from her bed where she sat cross-legged on its edge. "It's true, I've gone out on a few dates since that night... But, can you honorably look me in the eye right now and tell me that a supernatural being of your age, and status, has never been touched by another?"

He was still unmoving, his gaze searching and steady.

"So...maybe you _won't_ be my first. And I won't be _yours_. Now, it's fair."


	7. Shattered Reflection

According to her father, Sarah had been Linda's shadow since the day Sarah could walk on her own.

In every way possible.

Her little mini-me.

Years flowed by, and Sarah began to dread her father's company. Behind Karen's back, he would reminisce on the old days, talk of the happiness and the pain that later followed.

And as more time past, Sarah started to piece it together.

"_You are so much like your mother." _

Sarah wasn't anything like her mother. She had never left them behind to chase her dreams.

She _sacrificed_ her dreams to save what she already had.


	8. Oh, for the Love

"Really, Jareth?"

"Well...did you or not?"

"Jareth, we're together. Can't you just let it lie?"

"I am curious..."

"Alright, fine," Sarah caved. "I didn't love you at first."

"At all? Honestly?"

"Honestly nope. Sorry babe." She patted his knee. "But of course, I do _now_. So please, just drop it?"

"But all that I had done was for you, Precious." He nearly looked dejected.

"Oh, for the _love_ of Titania and Oberon, Jareth!"

"Where did I _exactly_ go wrong?"

"Well, for one Goblin King, throwing the Cleaners out to chop me up into little bloody pieces wasn't exactly a turn-on."


	9. Informative Speech

**I reguarly do a handful of research on the supernatural and mythology. Enjoy!**

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><p><em>Mainly it is to be believed Goblins exist amongst two realms. In ours, the mortal world, as wll as in the realm beneath it; the first in spirit, the other in their true physical bodies.<em>

_They are sternly devoted and allied with one particular sorcerer or witch coven, whom they usuallu gaurd and aid as an equally associated tribe, rather than mere slaves. This certain perception however, may seem a bit abnormal to any who are not fully familiarized to the goblin viewpoint—because the goblins often did things which could very well be measured as servant level labor, and for a very little reward at that._

_These creatures can be called on individually or in an entire horde, all in all summoned by spell. Because of their power they are much sought after by believers, though because of the current corruption of mankind, they're sadly rarely seen._

_Doing them wrong to any degree, is a thing to avoid since they have distinguished a grudge to a fine art and practice. They can be fierce and rather frightening at times, when the purpose of being so is needed most. Only the strongest of souls are able to strike a deal with them._

_Nevertheless, goblinkind have a side which few ever learn of: it's their strong affection for those who are able to generate an understanding and companionship with them. Upon the time of passing for such a chosen being, they will handle the corpse with proper respect, and my even quietly weep._

Mrs. Millington piped up, "Toby, I'm just wondering what source did you use for this assignment? It's one of kind, that's for sure."

"My sister," was the boy's answer.


	10. Past Influences

Sarah slapped the cash into the cabdriver's palm. "Thanks again."

He nodded in appreciation, "No problem."

Karen was the one to answer the door. "Sarah? You're an hour early."

Sarah rolled her eyes as she strode past her stepmother. "Hello to you too, Karen."

"And you cut your hair!" Karen exhaled with slight astonishment.

Indeed, Sarah's dark locks now rested at the base of her neck, and possessed a little flip on the ends. Like a graceful ringing bell.

"You always took pride in your long hair." Karen lifted an aged hand to briefly stroke the new layers.

Sarah shrugged (somewhat) lightheartedly. "I thought I would try a change."

"Well, I think it's very mature look." Karen said. "I wondered why you ever let it grow so long in the first place."

Sarah stared at her. Because, she reflected then, that's how maidens kept it in fantasy stories and tales. It was the norm in those worlds—

"Because Karen, that's how Kings preferred it."

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><p><strong>Thanks to the readers who follow my progress!<strong>


	11. Cages and Things with Wings

**Enjoy!**

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><p>Loss or no loss, he was still a King. A King, which truly knew what it took to <em>be<em> a King does not turn for the downright wicked and unprincipled path. A "good" King must keep his word, regardless of the agony and anger that may linger behind.

And the single thing that kept her close to him after her win were the sporadic crystalline watches, the little peep-ins.

But in time, he fully realized that she'd never plop right into the flat of his palm.

She was a free and gratified spirit, always taking flight despite the pleas of additional suitors of her world.

She had powerful fire coursing on the edges of her soul.

Ironically, few would say, that'd it be difficult to cage a bird.

However, many would say it'd be nearly impossible to cage a dragon...

Wings of a bird can so easily be broken and bent.

Wings of a dragon are sturdy, even can be fatal if one's caught beneath its flap.


	12. Trials in Drawing

"Toby, what are you doing?" Jareth glanced across the table at the boy hunched over a pile of papers, a sketching utensil balanced between his fingers.

"Art homework."

"An art project?"

"We're supposed to draw something that deals with wildlife."

With a playful smirk, Toby's sister strolled up from behind, taking hold of the sheet. "A penguin, Tobes?"

Toby's patience snapped instantly at Sarah's amused inquiry. Jareth sighed. Short tempers sure did run through the family.

Toby countered with a grumble, "It's a barn owl! I had no ideas, so I just copied Jareth."

Sarah snickered afterwards. "It a penguin."


	13. The Coach's Offer

"Please," Sarah said eagerly, "there must be something I can do to change this grade."

Campbell was a fairly new teacher, just graduated from the university himself. He was the younger, humble and expressive sort of instructor that students didn't really mind compared to the rest of the staff. The type that wanted to connect with his class instead of discarding their progress. And Sarah was relying on these facts to cause things to sway to her advantage. (She hadn't felt her stomach knot up so much with nervousness and frustration since—well, then wasn't the place nor the time to recall those events.)

Campbell exhaled as he continued to file this week's records into his briefcase. "Sarah, you're a great writer, and that's _why_ you received the grade that you did. I _know_ you can do better than _this_. It's too bland to be your best work." He gestured to the essay in her rigid hold. "And remember, you chose to transfer to a private high school. You must've known he stakes would be placed higher, right?"

Sarah indicated immediately that he in fact, pitied her on some level. She hated it. "Can we stay here and discuss it further?"

Mister Campbell gently herded her out the door with him instead. "I'm sorry, Sarah. I'm actually holding a meeting for some students in the auditorium this evening." He locked the classroom up, and turned towards her once more. "I do not mean to discourage you in any way, Sarah, but you won't succeed in doing anything if you just, well, settle..."

"I'm _not_ leaving until you hear me out."

"Sarah, my decision is final. Again, I'm sorry. So, until tomorrow."

She happened to trail after Campbell while he made his way to the school's theater. Personally, he had been a tad flabbergasted by this action. From her first day at the academy, he figured she was a determined girl based on her general behavior, although now it was evident she wasn't going to let this go without a direct fight. Down the series of hallways and turns, he allowed Sarah to rant on about her considerations and amount of research put into the essay.

"Okay, okay, Sarah, I'll review it again tomorrow." Campbell compromised. But the relief on Sarah's face melted into surprise, as soon as he added, "In the meantime, have you ever thought of joining our Debate Team? We're here now. I'm the couch holding the meeting I just told you about."

Amazingly enough, Sarah wasn't able to restrain her sudden interest in the whole idea.

Campbell then pointed out, "I ask you this since you seem to have experience in fighting with just your words and mind."

Sarah nodded once. "You have no idea..."


	14. Gathering for the Initiation

She hadn't dared to recoil from Jareth's side, her delicate hand tucked in the fold of his angled arm. Her fingers, ever so slightly, curled and clutched the material of her escort's royal sleeve—either out of fear or just sheer grit—it was not quite clear to them.

Goblin, Elf, and Fae eyes alike, observed the newcomer carefully, inwardly judging if she was worthy for the rightful title of Goblin Queen. Or even worth stepping foot beyond the Veil (apparently _again)._

There had been no set ceremony to wed the two yet, but she had to be introduced to Jareth's allies and the neighboring kingdoms nonetheless, before anything else played out further.

It was old protocol that wouldn't be abandoned.

And she, oh yes, she was just how their friend and Lord Jareth had described her—fair and brightly exquisite, like a rose, with her impressive youth and beauty for a mere mortal already—Once she was, or _if_ she would stay and be changed, she would become one of the most and fairest magician in all of Underland.

Though, that emerald gaze of hers was sharp and held a certain willpower that even made the magical crowd second-guess her value.

She was indeed a rose. A rose with many thorns to spare if needed, that is.

She'd make the perfect addition for the mischievous and mysterious Goblin country.

And the Council of Elders soon after announced what had been decided. Jareth smirked with contentment.


	15. Lessons in Warship

"You want to learn?" Jareth questioned.

"Yes." Sarah insisted. "It's necessary. Besides, _you_ taught me that I cannot always rely on magic."

"Alright." With that, he handed one of the tools over to her. "Place this finger here as you take the grip."

"On guard, Sarah," Jareth instructed, starting to build the tension. "Now!"

With a keen hand bent around the grip, Sarah had struck forward, thrusting her epée towards his torso.

The training blades clashed as he parried.

Then Jareth stepped backwards, observing her stance and footwork. "Good. Again."

The girl Queen nodded, and went back into starting position.


	16. Storm Rage

Sarah stood on the bridge at the park. She stared straight forward to the line of trees beneath heavy lids, her body still as stone. The air surrounded her was warm, but the night sky that stretched on above her had grown darker than usual as storm clouds shielded the moon.

The mean downpour was swift and steady. And even soaked to the bone by now, she didn't feel the urge to sprint for shelter.

Sarah had argued with Karen on a few occasions before, yes sure, however this time around Karen's choice of hurtful words were enough to drive her out of the house. And this time around, not even her brother's pleas were not enough to pull her back in again.

Sarah sensed he'd been beside her for awhile after she arrived there. But she didn't really pay attention to when he materialized there, or haven't exactly considered what brought him there.

"Human immune systems tend to grow frail in vile weather. You may become ill." he said eventually. "I suggest you return home..."

She remained silent, just as much as she was earlier. He couldn't tell if she was currently too caught up in her own anger and grief to process a reaction, or if she had been deliberately ignoring him the best she could. It wouln't be the first night that she defied him.

He sighed, and with another gust of wind, he vanished from sight.

Although the last thing Sarah remembers from that night, from that last moment when he departed, was the feel of his dark cape being left behind and draped over her head.


	17. The One and the Other

Jareth was tremendously exhausted upon this night, even more so as similar nights took place on top of each other. But yet, he felt so exhausted that he knew any further sleep had drifted beyond his reach.

He leaned against the balcony's cool marble ledge, allowing his head to hang in mild distress.

And it wasn't long before he heard her approach the curtain delicately fluttering out from the archway. "Driven out of bed by nightmares again, dearest?"

She must have noticed his habits for some time, he thought, though this had been the first for her to actually address the matter. "It's nothing. Return to bed."

Instead of following out with his request, she sauntered up to his side, fixing her emerald eyes ahead to the winding shadowed paths of the Labyrinth below. In contrast, he eventually granted her a side glance, taking in her lasting beauty. With her slender limbs, fair flesh, her glistening green eyes, captivating long dark tresses, and her endless humble spirit, she indeed had gained many suitors throughout the years.

But he would have lost his empire if it weren't for her. In order to maintain his Throne, the Elders of the Underland's Council had highly required him to take a Goblin Queen. _Behind a kingdom, there lies a good king, with a ruling partner to support him_. And thus, because of her decency and understanding, she finally stepped forth to relieve his stressful load. With their arranged marriage, the threats had lifted, much to Jareth's overall comfort.

Her lips parted once more to speak, "...This may sound selfish on my part, but I'd give anything to continue plaguing your dreams...to set you on edge with a fatal passion to the point until you cannot bear it. To have you ponder and contemplate over me."

He said nothing; because only a strand of guilt ran down inside him. He figured why she'd said that.

She smiled anyways, even feeling a bit crestfallen still, "Though perhaps, I should be careful what I wish for, yes?"

Therefore, at last, her last words were able enough to make his body slowly rotate to face her straightforward. "Such a sad love we have shared thus far..." he said, nearly whispering it.

Hand lifting, her soft fingertips were feather-light to his cheek, "...Do you love me even now?"

"Yes, I love you still." He leaned in to kiss her temple. And he stated the stern truth. To him, and to most creatures in the Underground at that, she had been impossible to despise...no matter how he'd really wanted to in their beginning.

"But, you still love her more," she drew away once his caress weakened, "more than a friendly face."

He caught the self-assurance fastening to her hushed voice. It wasn't a question; it was an honest declaration.

His eyes told her that is wasn't right. He knew it wasn't right on his end, to long for another. Especially when he had been the one who placed his pride aside, asking her to agree to her Crown. That he did not want it, that even though their marriage was basically forced upon them, he had wanted it to work out in her favor too.

No added words were needed, however. He had permitted her into his internal thoughts. A telepathic stream crackled between them, letting her realize the facts. "Oh my love, you have been breathing on the airs of denial all this time."

Yes, possibly he had been, but he it didn't _want_ it. He did not want to love any other but her— She was an elegant being, an ideal Queen for any kingdom of supernatural power, a rather level-minded and acquitted noblewoman.

A near-perfect replica in appearance of the other in his heart.

But in the end Jewella, Lady of the Elves, was still not Sarah.


	18. The Sun's Light and the Moon's Radiance

In several olden cultures, it was said that the sun loved the moon.

But against the popular belief, the fates did not weave Jareth to be like the night, despite his supposed "darker nature."

No, in fact, Jareth shined brighter amid hundreds more. He was born of Nobel blood, relative of the Seelie line, folk of light. Everyone under him knew of his title as the land's father, their King. His empire was forever bound to his gratifying pull, to cycle and revolve around him. As ruler, Jareth had been chosen to be placed in the center of it all. His powerful gleam could blind any pair of challenging eyes, and his heated pride could burn another to a crisp if it's tested beyond the limit.

However the moon was the one and only exception...for the moon had her forces. Sarah in reality had been the nightly being all along.

She was lovely when clad in a gown threaded with the finest stardust, so graceful. Though, her patience and heart would wane at times, and behind her level of radiance, she would reveal a glimpse of her dark side that not everyone had the chance to see. Sarah too, was without a doubt, a mysterious creature, just like the secrective darkened hours of the day. And her purpose was just as significant as his own.

The sun loved the moon because she was his equal. And only across paths made of stars would they meet again.

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><p><strong>Just following and comparing to the traditional Pagan andor Wiccan concept that the sun is the ultimate father, exsiting alongside of his equal cohort, the lady moon. I personally find it fansinating. **

**Stay tuned for more story bits to come! **


	19. Plagues and Goblin Kings Alike

Sarah was not necessarily frightened of All Hollows Eve. She merely...grew more cautious about her own whereabouts than usual.

Mythology and lore had always stated that the Veil became thinner between worlds on that one day of the long year. One could never know exactly _what_ would leak out and decside to take a stroll across the mortal plane.

During the old plagues, the villagers wore masks and costumes to hide themselves away from the demons who spread the very infections. And she'd used that concept for three years to her advantage.

Within the mass of wildly-dressed college students, he'd never find her on that night. Not as long as her mask worked as her shield.


	20. Time Will Tell

Jareth watched the child sitting upon the carpet, surrounded by many toys and treasures that an infant of her age could very much enjoy.

"Goblin King...," Sarah spoke softly, tipping her head. He noticed promptly that her voice had lost its full force, perhaps from various horrid coughing spells. "I haven't seen you for quite some time."

The child's petite arm reached out and little fingers shook and cuddled the stuffed rabbit of her current amusement. She paid to heed to the King's presence, and seemed too personally engaged to remember her very guardian resting in the nearby rocking chair.

He replied with, "The Veil of this world and mine has been growing rather dense these days. It had been honestly difficult to pass through it. Fewer and fewer still believe in the ancient things."

The girl cooed and the sound unintentionally had gained back Jareth's attention.

A small smile pulled at Sarah's pale, chapped elderly lips. "My grandchild, Emma. Silly little thing, isn't she?"

"She has your eyes," noted Jareth.

And he decided to say that instead of their last words of goodbye.


	21. Late Bloomer

"What is the trouble, Sarah-mine?"

Jareth found his beloved pacing in the Great Hall that late afternoon when he returned to Castle Beyond from a meeting.

"I don't get it," Sarah thrashed out, walking towards him. "If the Elders had foreseen me as the symbol of ultimate power for the next generation of magic, then why can't I perform any magic at all?"

The King encircled her arms around her as she finally pressed herself into him. Resting his chin upon her head, he swiftly anticipated, "You fear that you have no magic left whatsoever?"

She sighed. "The thing which frustrates me the most is the fact that I seemed to carry more power within me back when I was mortal. _You_ even said I had certain powers, remember? And now, since I am _supposed_ to _be_ magical, I have never felt so hopeless and childish."

"There are no shortcuts in learning. And the supernatural arts are not an exception; you should know that better than anyone."

"But it's been almost a year and a half, Jareth," Sarah clarified, hardheartedly now, "Maybe I'm not just a late bloomer... What's happened to me? Is this a punishment put on me by irony?"

"You _were_ meant to be turned, if that is where you're swaying this conversation towards. We, nor did anyone else here tamper with the Fates' design." Jareth's gloved hand lifted from her lower back to stroke her hair. He could tell that she had worked herself up again by how tense her muscles had grown. "Sarah, the power which you thrived on while you were human was called total stubbornness and sheer willpower. Though, when you were turned, your body and mind no longer had to rely purely on that certain type of power— Be patient, my Queen. The Elders' prophecies have not been wrong thus far."

So with hearing that, Sarah released him and pulled away. She felt no less distraught and mentally strained. "Then _when_, Your Highness?" she challenged, her voice rising in more volume yet. She waved her arms about for additional emphasis. "_Where_ are my certain powers? _I refuse to be the only one in all of Underland that is magically frail and defenseless!"_

And following that moment—unexpectedly, and abruptly—the Royal couple, and the rest of the Great Hall were lost in a blinding flash along with a strong gust, originating from Sarah's previous wild gesturing—which caused both of them to stir backwards.

Once the energy dissipated seconds later, Sarah whirled in place, observing the bewildering aftertaste of the blazing jolt. The gorgeous glass-stained windows were utterly shattered, completely blown out from their frames. The stone walls and marble pillars were layered with ash and scorched, and most of the furniture arranged in the room was now aflame.

Jareth re-straightened himself out, cast a cynical glance towards his spouse. "You were saying...?"

Sarah bit her lip as she tried to suppress a self-appreciative grin.


	22. That Fine Line Between

Love was not simply a one lane street. Love was, indeed an unpredictable force which had many angles and obstacles to it.

What was worse, when one fell in love, this powerful emotion caused one to become unpredictable just as much.

And Jareth just couldn't help it when he loved Sarah's passion.

He loved when she stood up for her own beliefs. He loved her brutal honesty. He loved the way she'd storm out the room in anger during his occasional nightly visits, merely to egg on the chase. He loved her when she glowered at him with narrowed judging eyes after she'd stumble upon a new trick of his. He loved her when she challenged him with her harsh words, nearly driving him over the edge of his sanity. He even loved her when she would tear up in front of him once her last strand of patience for him finally had snapped.

These were signs that proved she felt _something_ towards him.

Yes, Jareth just couldn't help that he loved her inner malice entirely and unconditionally. It was amusing to him, no matter how unhealthy it seemed in the end.

Their series of little battles of wits and mocking phrases were actually highly addictive.

But the funny thing was, whenever he checked it on her through a looking crystal, not in person, and he would catch her smiling with pure happiness without him present, he felt hated for her.


	23. The Worthiest of them All

Toby's somewhat cautious stare closely studied the peculiar scene, scanning over every diminutive detail that was there to absorb. The figure, which the blue eyes belonged to, stood unmoving, just after entering the Throne Room.

The number of goblins paid no heed to the situation, however. They only went about their usual business, cackling at practically nothing, becoming intoxicated with the King's finest rum, and plucking feathers from flustered roosters. The Fire Gang was also present, standing in the far corner, gleefully multi-juggling their detachable heads between each other.

The lifeless bloody bodies of the justly-recognizable maidens were sprawled about at the throne's base, partially overlapping one another. Their beautiful, excessively curvaceous forms appeared peaceful with their eyes closed, as their limbs were angled in certain delicate manners. Their flowing strands of hair draped down the steps. And even if claimed by Death, the maidens were lovely and fair as ever.

The first still wore her crown over her golden curls. Though unfortunately her famous slippers of glass were no longer upon her feet, since previously they'd been utterly shattered into countless shards too sharp, and too small to bother piecing back together. The second maiden had no crown left to wear, since hers was melted to a silver watery pool, dripping off the edges beside her. Her flesh was pale beyond pale, now _whiter_ than snow if possible with the lack of blood flow. Her sleek raven strands were now touched by grey, supposedly caused by the fright she experienced during her last living moments. And the last young lady no longer had lips red and full as the rose. They had grown thin and chapped with visible trauma. Ironically, Toby noted, that she had been forced into a kind of deep sleep once more. But he quickly reminded himself, a kiss granted by her lover (no matter how true of a lover he would have been) wouldn't have the might or the magic to wake her this time around.

Truth be told, he was not per se, downright _stunned _by the sight. Nor was he necessarily _surprised _that this occurred, a tangible tragic event it happened to be or not. But in fact, he merely assumed it was an embarrassment on _their _part—coming to an end like they did. More or less, they _had_ sort of asked for trouble. Plus in all probability, hearing how these women really acted on a daily basis, they never had any suspicions or second thoughts when they were invited to _this_ region of Underland. Who would honestly trust a request to travel all the way through Emerald City, and then trek beyond the Red Queen's domain just for a dandy tea party? For being Queens of Legend, none of them had perished a noble or noteworthy demise at all. On the other hand, he personally hadn't deeply wanted Death to take their souls, for he held no hatred towards them in particular. Though, he _understood_ well enough to figure what had made them easy prey.

These Queens of Legend were not inevitably known for whom they truly were, but more known for their stories and the dilemmas they were in. They each had waited, and waited some more, then amidst all their suffering, they ultimately relied on a prince to turn their sad days round right. They also didn't have great amounts of individuality, and had no sense of personal will versus the set order of things. Not to mention, they tended to have rabbits and other little critters plagued with diseases as heartfelt companions. These three maidens hadn't exactly been the ideal icons for feminist movements.

And so Toby knew, in _her_ eyes, all those traits were totally undesirable. Entirely inferior. _Such a pity_, she would say.

He looked up to the massive curved royal chair then, where the Goblin Queen sat coolly. At present, She appeared to be in a rather jaded mood still, with her private task now checked off and accomplished. She was so lost in her gradual boredom that she hadn't even detected his arrival moments before.

He cleared his throat, and bowed his head in vivid respect. "I notice the King is out on business elsewhere as usual. Did you get it out of your system meanwhile, Sis?"

His elder sister instantly snapped out of her trance at the sound of his voice. Her features swiftly lit up with a great deal more of interest, fused more playful delight.

"It's nice to see you too, Tobes," she smiled at him in all of her cruel green-eyed, dominating, yet exquisite glory, "I actually sent Jareth out on a few errands for me after his meeting with the Morrigan... But, I was starting to wonder when my favorite little brother was going to come and visit again, with you courting the Elven Lord's daughter, Abell and all. She missed you while you went home to take your Geometry exam."

* * *

><p><strong>I'm sorry for this graphic concept, but I had to write about it. The idea was far too intriguing for me to ignore. <strong>

**Compared to the mainstream princesses we grew accustomed to as children, I always find Sarah's defiance and stubbornness quite refreshing. It's ironic that the name Sarah means **_**princess **_**to fit the story better—but clearly by the end of the film, she actually gained the title as the heroin in her way by taking a stand to fix her own problems, instead of taking an interest in the King's affections towards her right then and there to take easy way out. **

**And I prefer Toby siding with Sarah, and having a close bond with her as her sibling after all that happened. (Just a side note, Abell is a little Elven duchess who falls for teenage Toby in one of my very much older **_**Labyrinth**_** stories. I thought why not, and just threw her in this one too.)**


	24. The Awkward Triangle

Sarah had read about this type of situation in novels before, and she'd seen it reused in numerous films at the theater.

But when a similar situation landed in her lap, things just become flat out awkward.

Sarah would have never thought after settling on a truce with Jareth not too long ago, that she would basically be forced into budgeting—or balancing—her time willingly spent in the Underground.

Apparently Sir Didymus had chosen to migrate with Ludo's reunited herd who headed back up towards the Mountainous Lanes for the coming seasons. Though, Hoggle remained behind still spraying the pocket Faeries with liquid iron, knowing epic journeys weren't exactly fit to his taste. Besides, the Dwarf decided not to push his last bit of luck while being forever under the King's watch. Out of the three of them, Hoggle honesty caused the most damage. He was appointed the Bog's Main Keeper after Sarah's victory as well. He was even charged with paying the expenses back to the Goblin City's blacksmith for destroying his giant automobile gate guardian. (Of course Sarah had privately confronted Jareth about her friend's so-called treason and asked if she could help in any way. He in return, calmly explained to her the passing of Hoggle's final sentence was beyond his doing. It became the City Court's issue.)

So all in all, Sarah's visits were frequently cut in half. Once she opened the portal in her looking glass like Jareth had taught her, she met up with Hoggle first. Jareth demanded some of her attention too however, and at the very moment Hoggle's silent mistrust regarding this fact grew agonizingly more noticeable overtime, Sarah realized how awkward it truly felt.

Saying goodbye to an old friend in order to leave and go see a recent-rival-new-acquaintance next? Yes, how awkward indeed.

A friendship triangle it had become.

* * *

><p>But then, Sarah woke one morning with an idea in her mind to change these unwanted outcomes—devote her time to <em>both<em> of them, at the _same_ time naturally! Only...this strategy soon backfired on her genius ass.

As they went sightseeing down the streets of the remodeled Goblin City weeks later, Hoggle shuffling on her left, adverted his eyes in resentment whenever Jareth sauntering on her right, placed his hand lightly on her lower back to redirect her in another direction. In perfect contrast, Jareth's mood would subtly turn edgy when Hoggle would openly thank her for the all fun they shared with Toby in her house during the previous night.

True, Hoggle was allowed into her bedroom during his lunch break, but was not allowed to enter the Castle at all due his status. Jareth could freely enjoy her company upon Royal Grounds, but to keep their truce unsoiled he wouldn't cross any personal boundaries until agreed otherwise.

The other one had access to what the other did not.

And the only thing they actually had in common was their juvenile envy.

Sarah sighed. She had an inkling that eventually she would tire of drifting back and forth between the two, boosting their egos separately just for the sake of the preserving the fragile peace lying in the middle.

Oh, what was a friend to do?


	25. Mystery Angel

Her small medical chamber felt chilled...not to mention a little lonely. The only source of light it had this late was the dim flickering coming from the hall.

There was a simple round clock mounted on the wall above her metal-framed cot. But once the midnight hour had arrived, it quietly and steadily chimed thirteen times instead.

The heavy cotton curtains circling her station stirred lightly upon the secret entrance of the King. He was mildly surprised by how still everything appeared now, for a place that was usually filled with panic and dread.

His eyes slid onto her sleeping form then. Though he studied the calm paleness of her features and ignored the present needles. The coiling wires.

Of course he had kept on a sharp (well..._sharper_) watch over her after the accident occurred. _Stupid mortal men and their reckless intoxicated driving. Really, of all automobiles on the road..._

For two entire months according to the Aboveground calendar, he sat cooped up in his Throne Room, glancing in at her family in order to gather new bits of information. Sometimes he would see her father stay the night for a few days straight—other times Toby would run in with a fist holding a bouquet of wild flowers and a book to read to her out loud—her huffy stepmother visited too, however, she complained about the unclean floors above everything else.

But when it was clear at last, that she wasn't about to pull of her stubborn registered coma on her own—he just couldn't resist his selfish urge to intervene any longer.

She was only eighteen. An age of womanhood, yes, but she was too young to be taken away from daily life nonetheless.

Leaning down closer, he laid a tender gloved hand across her forehead.

Actually touching her, even in the slightest way, ached to his core. The effect this girl had on him was truly incredible.

"_It's time to wake, precious one," _he whispered against her lips.

Then, he kissed her momentarily and vanished into another gust of wind as soon as the rhythm of her heartbeat increased.

_Beep...beep...beep...beepbeepbeepbeep...BEEEEP!_

Sarah's emerald eyes opened at the sudden impact, and she gasped, gulping in air which seemed like her first breath in a thousand years.

Taking in her surroundings straightaway, she merely found herself sitting up within a strange bed under a soft white sheet, showered with a mass of silver stardust and curled ivory feathers.

"Oh, thank heavens your awake, child!" The female nurse who rushed in soon after, must have been on her post when Sarah's breakthrough alerted her. "What a miracle! You had to be kissed by an angel."


	26. Of Jason

"Hey, Sarah!" A small group of her college peers met them halfway on the sidewalk. They were headed towards the party downtown as well.

Sarah smiled in politeness. "Hi, guys."

"Who's this?" Alicia eyed her personal escort curiously.

"This is my friend..._Jason_," Sarah improvised coolly, gesturing over to the King. "Jason, this Alicia, her boyfriend Sid, Michelle, and Harold."

And after they completed their small talk, Jareth immediately rotated around, aiming a suspicious look at her. "Jason?"

"I'm sorry, but face it—" she could tell he was not that impressed with her choice to lie. "—you don't hear _Jareth_ on a daily basis. And you already speak with an accent. You're lucky no one asked you what country you were be born in or something. If I told them your real name, it would've most likely raised more questions like: how did you get that name, where does it come from, what does it mean, and how did the two of us meet—? Those are questions I wouldn't be comfortable answering truthfully...or they'd probably ship me off me to a psychiatric ward."

"Well, even if that was the case, I'd still visit you."


	27. A Goblin-filled Holiday

**Written in honor of the Yuletide-time holidays. Happy New Year, everyone :)**

* * *

><p>Sarah's frustration was accumulating rapidly by the minute. As she paced her bedroom floor, she slowly chewed at her thumb nail.<p>

The Goblin King had the bold nerve to basically invite himself to the yearly Williams' New Year's dinner with the intension of finally revealing his existence to her family (but in a non-magical light)...and _he_ was the one who was late?

What promising excuse could he have, the master of timekeeping himself, to be late?

After emitting another series of curse words towards him under her breath, there came a flap of large beating wings at last. And he was standing in the far corner then, dressed in modernized attire...dark pants, a plain white V-neck shirt under an open casual suit jacket, and classy biker boots. He had even shortened his hair for the occasion.

"You're late." She hissed eagerly.

"I am aware of what time it is," he grumbled back at her, "but I was a bit delayed."

"Delayed by what?"

Though Sarah received her answer soon enough— A vast pile of small hairy and warty creatures alike had suddenly fallen out of her closet nearby, like dominos, due to the confined space inside.

Jaw dropping, Sarah watched as they attempted to reorder themselves, chattering and scampering out of sight into more convenient little hiding places.

"You...brought them _here? All_ of them?" It wasn't too common for Sarah to reflect panic in his physical presence these days, although this particular circumstance evidently called for it. "See, this is the kind of thing that would ultimately prove to Toby that the monsters hiding in the closet are real!"

"Well, I had no choice, Sarah. It was either this, or I'd leave them unattended, alone, back at the Castle for hours. Now, _that_ was surly out of the question."

Sarah couldn't even bring herself to blink. She felt as if she was on the verge of hyperventilating. _The goblins, here!_ Was this a prank? Seriously. Did he not realize how important this dinner was them? He was treading directly in on the _one_ tradition she essentially appreciated spent with her somewhat-dysfunctional family...the least he could do was respect that. How would she ever survive this night, knowing goblins were dispersed about the house? What mischief could they brew? Karen in particular, was the most obsessive and systematized individual Sarah had ever met. If a single detail went askew, Sarah knew she'd never let it slide.

"If trouble arises tonight, Goblin King, it's on you."

When hearing this, Jareth noticed how her eyes turned steely.

Sarah sighed deeply then, not letting him ponder over a remark that'd cancel out hers. "In any case, you can't be seen up here. You need to be greeted downstairs at the main door like a normal person. So, go, teleport outside." She fluttered a hand towards him.

Likewise, Jareth sighed, understanding it'd be best for the situation to submit to her demand. "Fine."

* * *

><p>Sarah waited at the top of the staircase until Jareth gave her the cue to act. She tried to focus on him in place of the distant giggling she caught onto, coming out of little fanged mouths from somewhere across the hall.<p>

3...2...1...

_Dingooong!_

"Sarah, would you let your guest in, please?" called Karen from the kitchen.

But Sarah had been already bounding halfway down the steps. "Yeah, I got it!"

She unlocked the door and swung it open to find Jareth now holding a beautiful red rose, with a black ribbon knotted in a bow around the long barbed stem. Smoothly stepping inside, he handed Sarah his gift as any perfect gentlemen would. "For you."

"Why not conjure a dozen of them?" Sarah taunted him somewhat, tilting the ruby petals under her nose. It offered Sarah a scent of a warm summer moring, an actual magical comfort for how chilly it' been through the past few weeks. "Kings tend to believe more is better, don't they?"

Jareth paused for only a moment in order to flash a small, flattering smile her way before his form practically floated to the other room. "Merely one has snagged my full attention. Not a dozen."

Her nerves were burning in her stomach after he left and she couldn't decide whether to label the air of intensity thrilling or frightening. Sarah felt the same sensation whenever her car slowly rode up to the peak of a winding roller-coaster track. She bit her lip in consideration, finally trailing the King's footsteps.

The tall twin red candles resting in crystal were lit in the center of a wondrous-looking feast while Karen was just finishing up bringing out the last steaming platter of roast from the kitchen.

"Oh, Sarah, we were wondering." Robert said, suddenly putting his wine goblet down upon the white lacey tablecloth, making his way towards her chair placed beside Toby's once she approached them. "Jason introduced himself to us."

Sarah cleared her throat briefly glancing at Jareth as her father pushed her in. And she quickly adlibbed, "Sorry. I had to fix my hair."

"Always such a lady these days." Robert chuckled at this, regrettably. Naturally it wouldn't be...well, a date...or even a true holiday dinner without parents present to cause their more matured offspring some embarrassment. "Jason, did you know Sarah's name means _Princess_? When I held her in my arms the first time, she didn't feel like anything less."

Jareth..._Jason_ smiled broadly, sitting in the chair opposite of hers. "How fascinating."

Though finally, Sarah spoke on her own behalf, trying anything to steer the topic far away from her childhood as possiable. "Yes, Daddy, thank you. But it's hardly fitting. I'm no princess."

"Nothing is too good for my little girl." Robert insisted, claiming the head chair on the end.

"Indeed." Jareth agreed, nearly purring the word out, as Karen gracefully sunk into the last open seat between him and her father.

Sarah was forced to re-suppress the loud groan that was longing to escape her. Her father had no idea what he was saying, and how literal Jareth's response was in comparison. Her father had no idea that Jareth a real Royal figure. She flashed the Goblin King a knowing look of one which had said, _You are not helping. Stop that. _

And Karen surprisingly, contributed nothing to the mens' exchange thus far, and merely sipped at her wine with an odd long expression.

Sarah supposed either Karen was silently determining how she really felt about Jareth. Was he too good for her? Or as petty as Karen could be at times, maybe she was thinking Jareth was the one out of _her_ league...if that was the case, would Karen have to be hiding a little jealously, even? Or perchance Karen had been judging how fit and "trampy" her short-cut black dress was this evening during the entire time.

So...

Her father was painfully clueless, Jareth was just being a pain, and Karen was fuming over whatever paining reasons in all of reality, and—

Sarah's brief inner confliction however was cut short by a random flickering of the lights above their meal. The bulbs sizzled softly, buzzed, and steadied again with a tiny spark.

Her alerted eyes aimed towards the door, then back to those seated around the table.

"Robert, is there something wrong with the electricity? You paid the bill, haven't you?" Karen finally opened her mouth, which caused Robert to respond through a huffy remark.

"Certainly, dearest. I'm not careless like that."

Jareth rolled his eyes and joined in to reassure them it was just probably a minor fluke that wasn't worth their greater concern.

"_Sarah,"_ Toby meanwhile had tapped his sisters bare shoulder, making her to look at him curiously and lean her ear in closer to him. _"I think there's imps in the house."_

The trouble was not imps exactly, but she definitely understood what he was referring to. Plus, children naturally possessed a much stronger sixth sense for detecting any magic happening.

Sarah in return, pressed a raised finger against her pursed lips. _"Shh...we'll talk about later."_


	28. A Little Contradictive

"Have you thought about my request, Sarah?"

"Yeah. Just about every time you visit," she replied cautiously. "But I still don't understand what _you_ would want with it."

The Goblin King sighed heavily. "I suppose you are not going to hand it over to me so easily, are you?"

"No, and maybe I don't ever want to. It was meant for me to have anyways, wasn't it?" That was her way to express that she honestly couldn't help but to find the nature of his so-called _requset_ a little contradictive on his part.

Jareth figured it would be best to negotiate before the situation turned into a possible bloodbath. "I shall play you for it. With honest actions, no tricks, and no magick." He vowed his word to her with a hand lifted to his chest.

Sarah knowingly turned her head towards her old chessboard set upon the corner table that was referring to. It had been finally pulled back out of the stuffy hall closet since she was trying to teach how to play Toby recently during a rainy day.

But she now grew hesitant. She recognized the Goblin King was a professional at strategizing and manipulating minds. And his Labyrinth and through the means in which it functioned against another, was real proof of that. This round between them would be different. Plus, it would be nothing close to challenging—a mortal child—not that Toby was horrible at playing chess. In reality, Toby was quite a decent learner for his age, yet a mortal child he was nonetheless.

The Goblin King had years, or basically centuries of experience on Toby. And sadly, on her.

"Really? Chess?"

He shrugged lightly. "That'd be fair for both parties. I assume you are a qualified competitor."

Sarah thought it over a bit more. The chosen award this time, whether it was her keeping it or him retaining it, was still far less serious than having her brother's fate on the line. "Alright. On one condition."

"And, that is?"

"I take black. For some reason, it's sorta the lucky color for me."

He chuckled when hearing this. "Certainly, for I have conveniently always preferred white."

"Good."

So shortly after they had settled themselves down, sitting opposite of each other, Sarah watched him begin the match by sliding his third pawn to the left, forward two squares. Sarah in comparison decided to move her right knight first.

* * *

><p>The overall process itself happened to be a smooth trial. Sarah maneuvered her own pieces better than she'd expected she could (with everything in consideration.) It was a very close call.<p>

However—once the long forty minutes it actually took for them to complete it had gone by—she was the one to admit defeat by the end.

"Checkmate." he muttered, studying her patiently and waited for her reaction.

Sarah just stared at the rows of fallen pawns and bishops before her, silently contemplating on what to expect from him then. She hadn't screamed in anger, hadn't accused him of cheating, and hadn't even complained in the least.

_It'll be fine_. She inwardly accepted his little personal victory rather graciously and prepared herself for the cost. "Before...I give it to you...I need to why it's so important for you to take it away."

"Because, you do not need it anymore, Sarah."

"That's not true. That's only your opinion." Sarah argued reasonably enough. "I may always need to go back to it at some point. Sometimes the way forward, is sometimes the way back."

"That's only your opinion," he echoed now with a mild smirk pulling at his mouth. "And a mere theory. Sarah, the past shall be what it is, and it shall always fall behind you. After every conclusion, you must move on to create a fresh beginning. It's for your own good. Even if it's difficult, even if it's a part of who you have become...it's time for a new adventure to be written."

Another pause followed, and eventually, Sarah forced her body to stand and aim for her dresser upstairs. He calmly trailed her steps.

And that was the day when Sarah Williams returned the scarlet novel, entitled _Labyrinth_, to its original creator.


	29. Congratulations, Sarah

Blinking once, then twice, Sarah slowed her steps and realized she could trust her sights after all. He was standing there, under the bell tower. "Jareth?"

"A little beasty told told me that it was your birthday today." He responded swiftly. "And so, I had to say _congratulations."_

Sarah on the other hand did not exactly favor the look he was giving her. It nearly was mocking her. So carefully, lowly, she inquired, "On…what?"

"On having another birthday."

He strolled in closer.

Sarah glanced in both directions, though it wasn't clear what she searching for. "Most people just tell others to have a great day. Not what you said."

"Well you see, for Abovegrounders, birthdays are celebrated on the anniversary of your birth date because you finally physically entered into the world. Yes? Although...the way we immortals see it, you fragile mortals should in fact, celebrate how many years you have—_survived—_in your world. Therefore, Sarah, I am ever so pleased you have endured in your world for twenty-three long years."

His verbal pitch was now toying with her mind and his mouth twitched, holding an even wider grin at bay. This made her jaw clench tighter.

"Thank you, Your Royal Pain. That was perfectly and sincerely…_graphic_."

"It's the goblin in me." His lips finally parted into a full Cheshire smile that was nothing but irritating.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to all!<strong>


	30. A Fawn's Error

**In my head, my OC's name is pronounced **_**(See-cher-ree)**_** I hoped the chosen spelling doesn't throw the reader off.**

* * *

><p>Nightly meals for immortals were a time to lull about. Biting into their food was meant to be a hassle-free practice. There was at least an hour and a half between each course. And those waiting periods were for serving goblets of fresh dragon blood and for taking interest in others daily agendas.<p>

For immortals, grand banquets required time, and certainly time they had abundant amounts of.

Sarah could not remember the last time she was allowed to just _sit_ and _enjoy_ dinner like this; to not care how long she was taking at the table, to not fret about making public appointments or not missing work shifts. Really—how many realistic human families would kill to actually settle down for hours, devoting a good portion of their evening together; perhaps at a high quality restaurant, or drinking champagne by a fire, telling stories, and getting to know each other on astonishing more levels.

The idea was too vibrant that it made Sarah envious, but secretly adore it the all more.

All had been going quite well and smoothly...that was until, one fawn called Siichuri, coolly probed Jareth about the issue revolving his somewhat desperate clutch he kept on his Throne.

Sarah instantly ran her gaze down the row on both sides of the long table. Expressions had indeed shifted at the mention of the sensitive topic. Most of the faces paled, others hardened in discreet revulsion, and some were impressed, even intrigued.

There was once an old news article published in Sarah's middle school American History textbook covering the Kennedy family. It stated the family would spend their meals testing and quizzing each other on many different subjects—but this was not the Kennedy clan—this was Jareth's private Noble banquet, his empire. And she knew better than anyone that his level of power _was _a delicate...dangerous matter to discuss.

The obvious debate looming in, was not going to be healthy for neither Jareth nor Siichuri.

Siichuri fingered his rust-colored, wirey goatee thoughtfully. "There are rumors floating around which state that our very guest of honor tonight is the cause of your realm's on-going collapse."

Sarah blinked when processing these words. Was she really becoming a target of non-mortal prejudices? Or was she currently an item of honest interest? How many of them actually _knew_ she was Jareth's prior Labyrinth Runner-now-close-friend-and-borderlined-lover? How many of the sharper details were shared? Jareth personally made it clear to her that even though she was an important fraction of his life, he would not push their relationship out to the public's eye until the things lingering between them have been totally polished, regarded, forgiven, set straight, and cleanly shaven-down first. And they had many memories to sort through left. Had she caused Jareth more damage than he let her believe? If so, it wouldn't be fit for his usual character. He always used the truth as punishment.

But Jareth simply stared Siichuri down, silently and frozen. Only Sarah naturally being the closest to him, could catch the subtle fury etch across Jareth's born mask of sureness and pride. She reached over, pressing her hand on the curve of him arm.

He could feel the apprehension coming from the light contact. When he finally slid his eyes in her direction, he noticed tension forming in her wide green eyes. They told him, _Tonight wasn't not supposed to go this way._

"_It will be alright_," he mouthed to her. And as he refocused on the boastful fawn, he presented his dark trademark Goblin King grin. "...By any chance, are you familiar with Labyrinthine thunderstorms, Siichuri? They can be quite different than the storms you get over the mountians."

"I...have to say I am not, Sire," came the fawn's shielded response.

"Well, the trouble with these storms is that they are _never as they seem_. Those who do not know any better, tend to pay no heed to a storm's full potential." Jareth clarified. "A Labyrinthine thunderstorm cloud first appear as if it moving gradually enough to evade, like it is barely little a bank of grey clouds drifting past. Like it is nothing to keep your guard up for."

The guests eyed their lord suspiciously. Siichuri seemed to be inwardly analyzing what the Goblin King was _truly_ attempting to indicate too.

Jareth, on the other hand, controlled his tone to keep it purely political. "Thus, the first error on your part, Siichuri, would be to underestimate the nature of storm itself. The second error on your part would be to let yourself stand daringly close. When that happens, it would surely be too late... Because by then you realize that it is crawling towards you faster than you had anticipated beforehand. I have even witnessed simple outlanders, traitors, and servants of mine pass by the Labyrinth, who were dull enough to trek beneath these storms anyways— After that, there is nothing for them to do but to make the wrong turn over and over and over again. And this kind of thunderstorm could carry on for days—with those winds, the downpour, the quaking, the lighting... So, to circle back and conclude this segment—since _you_ modestly underestimated the true power of storm, you're now completely caught in it without mercy and taken."

Sarah's flaming anxiety was instantly ventilated, noting that Jareth _really_ knew how put a metaphor to use. It was ingenious.

The heavy weight of Siichuri's own indecisions were very evident now, glimmering in his dark round eyes—a stumble of his ego, a wane in his cocky behavior, with a drop of self-embarrassment.


	31. She Broke It

The inner of his bedchamber was torn apart, a nonliving victim of his episode of rage which occurred minutes ago. Now he lounged back in his desk chair with bitterness, head slightly bowed, black leather-clad fingers pressed against his snarling frown, amongst all the tattered remains. His half-lidded eyes still gleamed under the moonlight spilling in the room as he stared ahead.

"_...I just can't."_

"_Is this your final decision?"_

The shiny of surface of his grand wall mirror had been ruined by a gust of dark magick he'd hurled in its direction. The circular crack bloomed into one large distorted, jagged flower across the glass. His private liar was once his leading save haven, a place of solace to escape to when needed. But presently, its broken elegance tormented him.

It somehow resembled _her_. Her rattling sighs and her small welling tears.

"_...Yes. I'm sorry."_

"_This will not come up again."_

The echoes haunted his memory. A chill gradually reached his core. Had he loved her really? He honestly did not know. He may even disliked her—for _love_ eventually seemed too _light_ of a word for what he felt towards her in the end. He was sure that he had _evolved_ because of her; his frame of thinking changed. Like his Labyrinth, some of his inner walls transformed into open doors, and empty spaces became solid ground. She coaxed his original design to shift.

"_Then, if you really choose to this, the bond shall be forever broken." _

"_I understand."_

The last opportunity he had granted was clear. His resting hand curled tighter over the golden arm of the chair fencing in his rigid figure. He wanted to loath her, but the so-called passion he carried ceased from doing it too much. Had she realized that he could not, and never would love her on human standards? Their connection was purely magickal; therefore it was poisonous to them both to the point where it could be fatal.

"_I wish...that I never see you again."_

"_...You're wish...is my command, Miss Sarah."_

* * *

><p><strong>A little too blunt and randomly sad, I know...but the short idea came to me anyways. <strong>

**It was meant to imply that Sarah's fondness for her life Aboveground was too important to turn her back on. She's too in touch with her common humanity. **


	32. Hidden History

**Happy Valentine's Day!**

* * *

><p>"How old are you?"<p>

"Isn't rude to ask others their age, pet?"

"That's mostly just women." Sarah rolled her eyes. "Besides...we both know I was referring to the portrait. You obviously look younger there. As in, you look like an actual teenager."

"...I was around three hundred years of age during that time, yes. I suppose for you, that is equivalent to a human's scale of adolescence."

"So, you _do_ age then." Sarah countered with a soft click of her tongue.

"At first my kind age much more slowly, but we stop as we reach full maturity—unless we let magic interfere with the process. You see, naturally—"

Wearing a meek smile then Sarah suddenly held up her hand to him, interjecting the explanation. "Nevermind, it's alright. I think the more I try to understand the complex laws and workings of immortality, I'd just get a headache."

"Fair enough."

She went back to study the painting of his family further.

Master Jarrett, his father, stood in all his pride to the right of a golden chair, dressed in garments and jewels that could only belong to a god. Physically, adult Jareth resembled him to a great extent. His beautiful mother, the lord's wife labeled Druzella by the bottom frame, was to the left of the chair, her slender hands folded over the arch of the chair's tall back, a hint of smile touching her red lips. She was clothed in a deep green gown dripping in gold chains, with a black fur cloak on her shoulders. Her dark ruby curls were all collected at the top of her head, held by a large tiara. Her eyes, unlike her son and husband's, were a piercing golden hue. They were almost...owl-like.

And in the exquisite chair itself, centered between his parents, sat young "Prince" Jareth. His body was angled towards his mother's side with his ankles overlapped, his pale cheek upon his propped fist. His stare was fixed ahead for the viewer, gleaming with authority. His mouth was cured up into a gleeful yet scornful smirk. But his feather light hair was not that long at all; it only reached the top of his jawline.

"The piece was actually done in my honor. I was the most talented magician of our said generation."

"I bet you were positively horrid as a teen." It appeared as if the wittiness in Sarah had finally simmered over, refusing to be contained any longer.

"Just terrible," Grinning, Jareth chose to flow along with her amusement as she launched accusations at him which he had heard many times before. Though somehow today, her comments lacked the malice typically used to spoil his mood. "A pure nightmare."

"Highly insufferable!" she chuckled.

Well, that certainly was a new one.

Her appearance however had regained some level of seriousness moments later. She laughed off what she needed to. "Seriously, though. I think you shouldn't outdo yourself, Jareth. You know, don't…unleash…something in you that may have the likelihood of spinning out of your control."

Jareth looked at her again, and just _at_ her, but gave her a look so penetrating it felt as if he was peering straight through her thoughts. A guarded sneer was also forming across his face just in case he'd found it essential to use it against her. "Where is _this_ coming from?"

His blackening attitude didn't faze Sarah; or at least she was an expert by now at pretending otherwise. She just stared at him throughout the following moments before she had decided on the most appropriate way to express herself. "I know, Jareth. I know...about your self-destructive powers. I'm only _suggesting_ that you shouldn't do anything that you'll regret later."

"Anything else?"

"Well, believe it or not, I'm concerned for you. For the Labyrinth as a whole, too. You made this empire, Jareth. Without you there would be no—_this_," she gestured eagerly towards their surroundings. "And I feel as if you'll go to entirely new heights to prove your capabilities, right? To protect what you deem necessary? You like to go full out because you can. Your magic is nearly godlike and that's great, good for you, I get that…. But I don't wanna be the one who gets to stand here and watch you…watch everything just…_fade away_. I won't do it."

"From time to time, Sarah, you find it important to create distance to shield yourself," Jareth defended straightforwardly. "Plus, if my territory is attacked, I will do what I see fit to secure it."

"But is it worth the cost? Jareth, I _know_, okay? Your power could _destroy_ you. I've learned more than you might realize, so please don't discard what I'm saying."

His voice grew rather low in pitch now, sounding aloof, "How do you know all of this, exactly?"

"I found it," she confessed, looking down at her right hand hanging at her side, which was barely touching his left, while they stood side by side. "I didn't want to mention it before to avoid causing more trouble. But Jareth, I found that old diary of yours...in the back of the library, stuffed into a crevice in the stone wall beneath the second window. It was during one of the times when you let me go over Elven culture."

The Goblin King cleared his throat, grumbling something under his breath involving _long centuries_ and remembering _to check up even on the littlest things_.

"Those entries that you wrote daily back then…I couldn't _trust_ them. I didn't _want_ to trust them. I didn't want them to be true. You wrote day after day with so much to say, with so much resentment and anger. Yet, it was the only outlet you had, wasn't it? The only way to vent? You wrote about the weight of your power. Overtime it became as heavy as solid blocks of lead inside your body. On top of that, you had deal with everything else—the absolute bitterness aimed towards your father, his expectations versus your own, and those constant nightmares. After reading the first few journals, it became clearer to me. I could understand why I _never_ heard one peep about your past. From you or anyone else."

"Sarah—"

"I'm not finished yet— No wonder you started to design the Labyrinth back then, Jareth. You chose to bear the burden alone. Live in isolation. You still took on your duties, but you wanted to do it from afar. Your peers in practicing the Craft—those few Elven offspring—started to pull away from you as your temperament grew...edgy. Living with all that baggage, I felt sick reading it. I mean...I think my life as a teenager was a tad dysfunctional due to my parents' divorce and Karen's rules, sure, but I couldn't imagine going through all _that. _I mean, no one deserves that, powerful immortal boy, or not."

Jareth didn't stir, not even _once_ as Sarah ranted on, voicing her over-due empathy and feelings. His figure was utterly stone, his eyes profound and judging. Then he was unsure what to add. His history had troubled her...in a way that he hadn't ever anticipated. The numerous small sheets of parchment bound together by musky, russet leather that flaunted his furious comments, personal hardhearted plans, and avid documentations, had troubled her.

He had intended to stuff that diary out of his sights forever, in attempt to forget his childhood along with it. His past was an extremely private matter. He even did not mind if others just assumed he evolved from thin air as he was, a being that had no attachment to a personal history whatsoever. His Unseelie-relative father had trained him mercilessly from the very day he was able to walk on his own, showing him to cast out energy, to stomp over inferiors, to pitch another aside in hopes of strengthening oneself. And he was forced to witness his father grow greedier, more obssessed with power and war, until his tainted magic literally devoured him from the inside out. But the grief Jareth should have displayed over the death had already been replaced with loathing. The only aspect of his early life Jareth had essentially cared for was his mother. They had always shared a close bond since he inherited most of his own characteristics from her. They were very much alike, despite that fact Jarrett bragged otherwise to the Courts. Jareth was nothing like his father, not really.

And after his father dived deeper into madness, she eventually releaved herself of thier arranged marriage and moved to the nearest Elven village across the river. Druzella hadn't once advised against his choice to build the Labyrinth, because she figured she owed him that much. She was also the only one who visit the Castle Beyond without getting trapped inside it. The Labyrinth favored her. Whenever she would come, the twisting trails reacted to her biological and magical ties with him. They simply merged into one narrow walkway, leading right up to the Gates.

His chest soon tightened unpleasantly while the memories violently pushed him back to reality. He had been encircled by an air of self-questioning and detachment for countless of years that the concept of _good_ emotion became alien to him. "...How far did you get in the journals, Sarah?"

"Believe me, I got far enough," she said, "I didn't know then if I wanted to finish all of it."

Although if this was her final analysis on him, then where did that leave him? "Do not view me in a different way because of the journals. I am still here as you can see. I have endured it the longest. Nothing more can be said about it now."

"You didn't just endure it. You actually turned out better than what was expected. Once your father passed on, you could've simply gone in and totally demolished the empire your father helped to build as an act of revenge. But you never did that, instead, you stepped up as King and tried to turn things around a bit for a better empire—I—I find that very honorable of you."

He shot her an mildly uninspiring glance and drawled out, "You really are a romanticist, after all, Sarah Williams."

"And you're a true cynic." she threw back in the same mocking playfulness as before.

Silence came over them for a while.

"Sarah?"

"Hm?"

"This has been quite an interesting Valentine's Day."

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><p><strong>Before forget again, I wanted to give a brief special thanks to <strong>**Sarabella****; who has been nothing but a joyful and generous story-follower recently! **


	33. Seven Dwarves in the Winter

**All OCs are mine.**

* * *

><p>A heavy layer of frost spread over the fields and through narrow pathways of the Labyrinth, collecting upon the massive dark tree trunks. Thus far this was the longest and cruelest Winter rush the Underground Realm had endured in decades. The leaves remained on their branches though, even as the chill had settled in. They merely turned silver in color, sinking into a motionless glassy hibernation.<p>

Magic could have lessened the cold blow, but the four seasons were the very basis of Nature, and Nature was one leading balanced force that was unconditionally banned to tamper with.

Hoggle and Morgren shuffled together through the misty forest, gathering fallen wood for their fires back at the current Dwarf Settlement. The roofs of their simple shelters were solid with ice.

Walking along the farthest side of the half-frozen Bog returning home, they finally approached Helga and Macaulay, who were already tending to a fire.

"Here," Hoggle grunted, passing his own pile of twigs in his arms onto Helga.

She fed the lumber to the little hungry flames, "Ah, nothing but broken ends," she snarled.

"That's all there were."

"How's it a'comin'?" Morgren joined in swiftly, gesturing to Helga's cauldron standing over the fire. She was apparently cooking a batch of blue-jay brew. Macaulay, Morgren's twin brother was born mute, so body language was far more significant to him. He just smiled in all his naivety, patting his belly.

Hoggle went on to watch the fire devour the braches like they were buzzards eating away at a rotting corpse. The flames were so weak, and small in size, hardly had anything going for them. But the flames took what they could get by on..._ Damn you, Jareth. You took everything from me…. _

Morgren looked over. "Hoggle?"

Sighing, Helga rapped her long spoon against the steel rim of the cauldron intensively. "Hoggle! My gods!"

He refocused, and grimaced as a breeze burst towards them head-on. "...Sorry."

The ladydwarf continued with a bold huff, her chubby fists going to her hips. "What's got yer head in a spin now?"

Morgren sniggered irritably, pulling his poorly-woven cap down further over the tips of his ears, "Knowing this bloke," he poked Hoggle in the side, "he's off fantasying again."

"Stuff it." Hoggle shot back, thrashing the fellow dwarf away.

"Hoggle, you've already lost your head over that human girl—that ain't mean you should lose your heart to her too!" Helga scolded as she stirred their meal again and was obviously more willing to side with Morgren. Her shawl swayed from her shoulders due to the motion. "Besides, she's in the Castle Beyond. There's nothing we can do now."

"I've been thinking," Hoggle muttered, "I got a plan."

Morgen frowned at hearing this. "Plan? No, I'm not gonna risk getting killed. We dwarves already been exiled to the Boglands years before you. And you're added trouble did not help our case."

"Plus, Borkkin told you to let it go days after the move," Helga reminded. "It ain't a wise idea."

Hoggle growled loudly, "I'm tired of all this! I'm gettin' her out...I have to!"

"Well, ya can certainly count me out!" came an additional screech.

Morgren and Hoggle immediately spun around. Macaulay caught onto this and curiously followed suit.

"Snooping again, Singrid?"

"Sister has a good ol' reason to do it, too," Urlic, another camp member piped up, suddenly waddling into their sights as well trailing the youngest dwarf.

Singrid lifted her large skirts over the snow, aiming for her sister's side. She discreetly collided shoulders with Hoggle while she did so. And they eyed together with distaste. "You should just learn to keep your trap shut and stay put, Hoggle! The King suspects us to retaliate because of you."

Then that was when a last and the final dwarf, Borkkin—the eldest dwarf—limped over to their rigid circle. His dark moles were more noticeable than ever upon his wrinkled rosy cheeks. His pale beard and scarf were infested by little ice crystals. "You young'uns should be careful what you speak of! You never know what's been listenin' all this time." he grumbled through his aged, raspy voice.

Purely on instinct, the rest of them scanned the scenery of grey and blue towering around them.

The trees seemed to have gone into deep slumber since the season hit, and most of the local beasts had migrated weeks ago. But they knew the Goblin King had pairs of ears all through the Labyrinthine country. Had his secret spies—the Eye Lichen, dragon-snap plants, black birds, mountain lynx, even speaking red foxes. And the King had ways to see things beyond their logic himself.

"Hoggle..." Borkkin said urgently, bringing everyone back from their thoughts. "You can't defeat him on yer own. It's madness. We all know you are different than we are. Yer not a blood part of this family...even still, let this lie."

"Sarah needs my help," Hoggle insisted, stomping his torn boot on the ground like a stubborn mule.

The elder flashed him a sympathetic expression in response, yet completely unconvinced. "But you don' know that for _sure_, now do you?"

"Have you ever though there's a wild chance that she ain't gonna _want_ yer help, dingdong?" Singrid snapped, supporting the notion.

"I was with her back then. Jareth was beat by her, and I bet she's inchin' to do it all again!" Hoggle argued further. He just was not prepared to ignore the rumor that Sarah Williams had been Underground all Winter long and was in the Castle.

"Then…all we can do for you 'ere is wish you good luck in finding the answers," Borrkin compromised steadily in return. "Though you should ask yourself why hasn't she been trying to escape to find _you?"_


	34. Dreams So Real

She stirred from a heavy slumber beneath the cotton sheets of her smaller bed, by the soft brushes of someone lips along the surface of her temple. Something like a strong, poised hand glided its way from her hip up her to ribcage. And keeping her tired eyes closed, she almost unconsciously rolled over to press herself into the source of unknown warmth. Another arm bent over her, fingers threaded through the length of her dark hair. She breathed in and breathed out. It wasn't an entirely a bad feeling. It felt a bit distant, being beyond her full understanding, yet it was so proximate; and stayed with her for a while.

"Sarah, wake up!" Karen knocked on the other side of the door. "Time for school!"

She sat up and was completely alone.

The dreams she'd been having lately were really odd, so real, but not quite.


	35. Unordinary

"_Sarah." _

Her thoughts shattered then, vanished. The indescribable restless feeling floated back up from the bottom layers of her soul.

She knew that voice. That deep, refined tone. She never had to truly see him to prove it was in fact him. She distinguished him by the manner he spoke her name alone.

He had always said her name differently. Not one person said her name as he did. Not even her father or her friends.

It wasn't just in the in the way from how it rolled of his tongue with an accent—but it was in the way when he called out to her. From his lips, her name carried a heavy meaning that she couldn't place.

Like she wasn't...ordinary.


	36. All Healing Hands

Jareth flitted into her bedroom. He was so discreet and cautious about doing it; Sarah never had to worry about alarming her parents so late at night.

"Oh, hey," she said, drowsily, "I just got into bed."

The dim lighting of the moon masked Jareth's face, but Sarah could tell he was frowning as he slightly gazed downwards. He was not pleased.

"What's wrong?" Sarah thrashed her quilt side, springing to her feet with worry.

"Your hands are burned." He stated darkly, more than throwing it out as a question. Sarah's was seriously bruised and blistered.

A nerve struck in Sarah's mind. She mentally kicked herself for not remembering to cover her injures. She hastily folded them behind her back, looking back up at him.

"Science class." she murmured softly. "A kid tripped over a backpack, then bumbed into my lab partner, and the acidic chemicals spilled everywhere...the floor...on me. I know it sounds lame and stupid, hardly a great war-wound honorably earned, but sadly it's true."

Jareth's critical glare was the last thing she needed to see before she went back to sleep. Still, he reached behind for her hands and enclosed them with his gloved ones, grumbling, "You truly exhaust me, you know that?"

Before Sarah could utter the smallest protest, the lingering pain in flesh diminished instantly. Surprised, she glanced down to see a glowing pale energy emerging from Jareth's hands, which channeled through her own.

He eventually let go. "Sleep now, Sarah-mine."

"I…I…never knew you had the power of _healing_," Sarah admitted, flexing her mended fingers.

By the window, Jareth chuckled deeply. "Yes, well, I never quite favored mercy. I scarcely practice those kinds of arts anymore. Though with your bold spirit and your defiant outbursts to prove your worth—I had a feeling I would be using them more often."

Sarah heard that as an insult wearing a compliment for a costume. "Is that your nice way of saying I attract trouble?"

"Absolutely."


	37. Pleasent

They were sitting side by side on a golden riverbank. An autumn crisp hung in the air around them.

"Sarah...," Hoggle cleared his throat, looking over at her.

"Hm?"

"I made you somethin'."

Sarah flashed him that shrewd pretty smile of hers, and it caused Hoggle go mildly pink in the face. "What is it?"

"Here." The dwarf pulled out a bracelet from his pouch of jewels, and handed it to Sarah. It was nothing but a strand of wire that threaded blue and green glossy pebbles together. The idea, however, was too sweet to even decline.

Hoggle shrugged, "I know it ain't as good as plastic, but..."

"I adore it, Hoggle!" Sarah chuckled at the statement. "Thank you. This is a wonderful gift."

She slid the gift onto her wrist and examined it a moment more. She didn't need to say anything, but she thought Hoggle's pebbles looked fairly pleasent next to the classic glistening crystal charm bracelet she'd already been wearing.

* * *

><p><strong>~ I would love to continue this collection for a little bit longer (perhaps to reach 50 even chapters), but creative <strong>_**Labyrinth**_** scenarios have been running thin in my mind recently. Therefore, if any reader would like to see a certain event or situation involving the characters play out soon, they are welcome to leave me a basic idea in a review, or can PM me if it's more personal. I will take a suggestion, but still make the story my own. **

**I have **_**never**_** offered this before with any story of mine, though I thought I'd simply give it a try. **


	38. An Order

Jareth did his waiting.

He did his labor.

Therefore, he deemed their first kiss would have to be initiated by her.

That way, it'd be fair. It was her turn.

He never really verbalized this compromise; his behavior had certainly implied it though.

However, she was ready to play.

"I will never kiss you, Goblin King. You'll still be the one to do it."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I'm a spoiled little girl, remember?" she grinned up at him a little too sweetly. It was almost teasing him. "I always get what I want."

* * *

><p>She batted her long dark lashes.<p>

Her lips were barley inches from his.

He waited. Waited. Always waited.

And then she gracefully pulled back, letting him watch her walk away. "Thanks for everything."

Again.

Over again.

* * *

><p>Their measured footsteps echoed within his castle corridor. The stone felt aged and cool against her brushing fingertips.<p>

He was a couple paces ahead of her, just walking, straying, causually thinking to himself.

"King Jareth?" she called out dramatically, as if she was rehearsing another written drama of hers.

He turned. "What it is it, precious?"

"Kiss me."

It was not a genuine plea. It sounded like an order.

Even so, no longer, could he resist.


	39. Lolita

**Based on the song lyrics by_ The Veronicas, _not the original "Lolita" story.**

* * *

><p>Sarah continually tossed and rolled beneath the quilts, hardly close to falling asleep.<p>

She eventually screeched bluntly into the pillow he usually used during his visits.

After all, some beds were built to hold more than one person.

The nights felt so wrong without Jareth's form to slide into for heat and a sense of security from the wicked enchantments that seemed to creep within the dark surrounding the apartment. Without Jareth, the environment had grown incredibly hollow.

Why had stayed away this long? Just because of their fight?

It wasn't as if they hadn't bickered before. What was so different regarding the latest argument?

True she defied him more times to none...but her heart was still his to keep.

Two weeks were marked off in her head since his cold departure.

And his absence was starting to effect in way she didn't favor.

She wasn't precisely worried—no, he could surely go and come as he pleased. She never expected him to abandon the Kingdom solely for the sake of their current relationship—on the other hand, she also knew he had the courtesy to say _something_ about it.

Sarah in reality, was feeling more...agitated?

Restless, than anything else really. Vexed. Forgotten.

If or when he returned, she'd be out for his blood; though not until she made him lay beside her one more time, yearning for her attention and telling stories of lost loves and old magick.

She wanted him back. She wanted him to need her.

Had he not wanted her first, so badly to the point where he played every trick against her to make her surrender the game those few years ago?

Had he not taken her their first evening together with so much passion, that it was almost feral?

Had he not loved her so deeply that it was nearly impossible to finally return the sentiment?

He chose her. And she let him choose her.

Why would he just drop it all in an instant? It was senseless!

She wanted it forever.

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><p><strong>Thanks everyone for the Favoriting!<strong>


	40. Wished into the Madness

**Written for ****Sarabella****.**

**Hope things lighten up for you, deary. You'll be in my thoughts.**

* * *

><p>"Hey, Williams!" A despicable, stocky dark haired boy took hold of Toby's backpack not long after class was dismissed for the afternoon. "I don't like when you try to save the day, you know that? Who'doya think you are, huh?"<p>

Onlookers paused, their eyes widened with apprehension. And they all swarmed in, engrossed by the typical schoolyard drama.

Toby huffed loudly as he twisted his weight around to shake his prowler off. "I'm not in the mood today, Curtis, let go."

Bullies were so overrated. So was eighth grade.

Although Curtis tugged on the strap once more, powerfully enough to make Toby whirl back round. Then putting their faces a bit too close for comfort, Curtis hissed, "I'm the least of your worries. My brother's a sophomore in high school—wait till I tell him 'bout you. _You're gonna be sorry, Williams_."

The crowd bubbled with whimpers and whispers. None of them dared to call for a teacher though. Not when Curtis Hawthorne was delivering out near-death threats. No one was quite ready to make the sacrifice just yet, much less erase the slight entertainment of the day.

Besides, Tobias Williams happened to portray himself as their study body's protagonist each and every time when Curtis was up to no good, anyways. To them, he was always the Protector of the Innocent Peers when it came to harassment on campus. Always being a leader. Always taking charge. He was _supposed_ to know how to handle this.

Toby meanwhile, sensed those were the kind of thoughts that trotted across their minds. But, if they only knew the truth about him...if they knew that he was not as _righteous_ as they believed he was.

He was just different.

In any case—Curtis' warning was meaningless to Toby. He privately had _so_ much more on Curtis than they all comprehended. Nonetheless, for now, he wouldn't jump on that track until it was strictly essential.

* * *

><p>A couple days later however, the time finally came upon them.<p>

Toby had been cornered by Curtis again during his walk home; and his square-jawed ape of a brother, Craig, wearing a bulky sports jacket accompanied him as well. Just as Curtis promised.

It was such a _shame_ that the Hawthorne brothers had discovered the vacant alleyway Toby used for a daily shortcut.

"I'll tell you one _last_ time, Williams. Stay out of my way from now on!" Curtis snarled. His brother cracked his knuckles in the background. "Or you'll answer to my brother's fists."

Toby's tone mirrored his, teeth grinding. "And I'll warn _both_ of you—to stay out of _my_ way. Or you'll face the wrath of my sister."

Blinking, the two brothers laughed at this. Curtis acted out vividly with mockery, _"Ooh, I'm scaaared! A girl might come to get us!"_

Craig couldn't help but to join in on belting out rude, exaggerated comments.

Momentarily, Toby released a curt laugh of his own amid their taunts.

Curtis and Craig instantly hear him and shift back into "mob mode," both scowling harder at their prey, very unsatisfied.

Toby's lingering amusement was only a needle-point to their inflated egos. They seriously couldn't figure the boy out.

Williams seemed to be so unoriginal. He was a bookworm _Arts Geek,_ after all. Being average height, lean-built, with disheveled blonde hair, and ridiculously bright blue eyes, clad in a red hoody and polished white sneakers—he looked as if he should've been a stupid poster-boy for a breakfast cereal in a television ad or something—and not so _this._

Curtis lunged forward to shove Toby into the brick building planted behind him. "What's so funny, hero?"

Though still not that phased by the circumstances, it was Toby's turn to offer them a small mischievous grin. "Oh trust me, Hawthorne, I'm not exactly a hero."

"You're just one big wisecracker, aren't cha?!" And Curtis beckons his brother to move up for the first full-on swing.

But feeling just as determined, Toby had not swayed from his place as he projected out his next words before Craig's fists could make contact with his mouth. "I wish you both to the Goblin Queen, _right now!_"

Time had seemed to stop, for an instant or two—

Curtis and Craig faltered, dreading how quickly the air appeared to have thickened with alien energies, and the patch of light grey sky above the ally appeared to darken...lightning struck overhead, without the usual roll of thunder.

To their eyes, Toby's started to grow hazy and more distant.

"Hey, Williams, wa-wait a minute...what's g-going on?!"

And soon enough—the rising sound of obnoxious cackling echoed throughout the alley, drawing in closer and closer.

Petite, rough hands snatched out from the cloaking darkness at their wrists, necks, forearms, and ankles. The speedy swarm of impish invaders dragged their targets down…down…to the deep layers of the unknown.

Toby, unwavering from the sidelines yet, actually could hear the struggles and anxious hollers coming from the brothers beyond the smokey shadow, until they vanished into the void of following silence.

Before he continued home, he casually gazed at the spot where Curtis had just been standing.

_Well...I did warn them._

* * *

><p>"<em>What is this RUKUS?!"<em>

Curtis and Craig had been finally freed from the cluster of little gremlin-like creatures and they practically crashed through a gust of wind then landed in a clumsy, painful heap on a surface of coarse floor tile.

They frantically scrambled to their feet afterwards, nearly tripping over each other.

Their hearts pounded, and their ribcages were heaving from the shock.

Circled about an antique table made of ivory and pearl, sat a collection of four outlandish figures looking down at them. Two men, a woman, and a girl.

The man who shouted first, shot up from his chair and held a very stern expression on his face. He was the very physical combination of a young soul's dreams and nightmares.

"Calm yourself, my King—I think those ones are for me this time." The woman with dark almond hair flowing to her waist was wrapped in extravagant vibrantly-colored robes which fairly resembled an Imperial kimono. Her unique headpiece—worn as a type of crown—had been fashioned out of a light polished copper material. Molded on the very front of the circular base, in place of a typical red jewel, was a little ornament crafted into the face of one of those gremlin creatures. And a spiraling ram-like horn was plastered upon each side—silk crimson steamers tied around them.

The curious man settled in the middle, was clothed in an old fashioned black tailcoat, trimmed with orange and green seams, tipped his large top hat at the brothers in greeting. His gesture however, had only caused more shivers to crawl down their spines, for skin was traumatically pale and his cream yellow eyes were filled with a wild glow. He looked positively...mad. "My, my, what a glorious surprise!" he cried.

And the girl beside him, could not have been more than fourteen. Out of the four, she somehow appeared to be the most...human. Not that she was that bland in looks compared to the lady. In fact, she was still charismatic—very doll like, even. Her smaller cheeks were naturally rosy in color, and the overall shape of her face amazingly resembled a heart. Upon her own head, was nestled an opal-gem tiara; and behind it poured down a lavish waterfall of golden curls ending just below her breast line. Her slim form was encased in what appeared to be an authentic, expensive blue and white Victorian gown. The utmost peculiar thing about her however, was the striped tabby cat currently cradled in her arms. The bronze color of the sleek fur shimmered maroon to tiger orange and back again as arched his back into the girl's stroking hand. His brilliant golden eyes peered at them closely...so closely that Curtis instantly deemed the behavior unnatural. He knew cats were cunning since their aunt kept five of them, but this one seemed all too _knowing_ of the situation, more than he and Craig were.

And as if to merely justify his rarity, his furred mouth stretched into a full vigorous grin, exposing all rows of his perfectly white fangs.

"Is there something the matter, boy?" the girl enquired through a tender British accent.

"Your c-cat," Curtis blurted out like a fool, "...he's smiling!"

"_Lo, like a Cheshire cat our court will grin!"_ recited the man in the top hat with much enthusiasm.

The girl simply chuckled sweetly in return. "Oh, do not worry. He means no real harm."

"You're Williams' s-s-sister?"

"Me?" The girl shook her head humbly and gestured to her left. "No, no, there is the Goblin Queen."

The real Queen laughed as well, her emerald gaze boring into them. "They're so pathetically muddled, that it's almost endearing."

"Indeed." the King deadpanned. "Although, I must have a talk with that brother of yours."

"He's only a boy, love."

"A boy who has been exposed to magick long enough to know he cannot continue Wishing away playground enemies here and there without facing the consequences. He's resorting to magick for punishing mortals, dearest one, and he doesn't even live Underground. He must find a more better and civilized, if not, way in solving social complications."

"Well, it's too late for sermons. _They're_ already bound here by magickal law. We can't reverse the deed."

"...Milady, I beg your pardon," Top Hat intervened, titling towards the girl, "but we should think of parting ways now. Our coach driver is more than likely getting rather paranoid. And I know for a fact he cannot stop hopping to save his life if we're running late."

"Yes, you're right, Sir Hatta." the child said, lifting her white fur-lined cloak higher over her shoulders, while Top Hat pulled took the liberty of pulling out her chair.

"I apologize for this, Milady." the King sighed.

"Oh please, not at all, Goblin King! It's perfectly fathomable. Wishes from mortal mouths are meant to be spontaneous. Sometimes we can never see them coming." Then she redirected her attention towards his spouse. "It was very lovely to meet you at last, my Queen, even if our Tea Hour was unexpectedly interrupted. After all this time, I always wondered who ended up with one of the other Looking Glasses."

The Goblin Queen mutually bowed her head in respects to the girl. "It was my pleasure—should I use your alias? Pleasant Liddell?"

"Please do. Everyone in Underland does since I moved in, specially in the presence of...mortal strangers. And I shall return the favor to you from here on. We know certain words hold power—but the very names of certain Chosen Ones, even more so."

"Of course. I understand, and thank you again for journeying all this way."

The King generously added, "Yes, you are always welcome in this realm."

"Your invitation is appreciated! Come along, Sir Hatta. Let us be off, then."

And when the servant escort, Sir Hatta followed on his ward's heels, the brothers were allowed to catch glimpse of the small paper card tucked inside of the hat's velvet band read:

_In this Style 1o/6._

"Mind your heads," Jareth told them.

Curtis and Craig twirled back around in time to see a scruffy brown hare shimmy halfway out of the back of Sir Hatta's tailcoat before he fully exited the Great Hall. The hare sniggered eagerly and it hastily whipped a spare tea cup in their direction.

They ducked.

The teacup smashed right to the ground somewhere up ahead.

The double doors finally groaned shut, the brothers managed to recover, and they faced the couple—the supposed King and Queen—intensely.

Curtis attempted to flee from the Hall, though somehow his muscles were no longer his to control. An unseen force paralyzed his form. It looked like his older brother was having the same problem too. "_This is crazy!" _

"What can I say?" the Queen caught onto this. "We're all a little mad here."

"Yes...it appears to be wearing off on your brother." Her husband said pressingly.

"Alright, I get it. If you want me to contact him, Milord, I shall." She finally stood up from her own seat to grant him a peck on the cheek before she left as well.

"Don't be long. You shouln't be traveling through portals more than you have to. Not in your state."

"Would you stop that? I'm with child, not disabled!"

* * *

><p>More awkward silence ensued until the King acted upon his next decision. "Agnes, Klϋnkit, Spϋrgϋs!"<p>

Within a few moments—three of those wretched things in miniture helmets came rushing back into the Great Hall on their cue. They aligned themselves and passionately saluted their King in perfect unison. "Your Highness!"

"Take these two the Western Oubliette until further notice."

"Take us where?" Craig demanded half-appalled, half-naïvely.

"C'mon, man, just let us go!" Curtis pleaded with his increasing anger.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple." Jareth clicked his tongue towards them. "The only way you and your brother can leave this place physically unscathed—is if Toby Williams will Run for your liberation."

And based on the conditions, the Goblin King doubted his little brother-in-law would be so excited to do so.

* * *

><p>Toby cleared off his dishes from the table to head up the staircase. Camelot, who was currently curled in a shaggy lump in the corner, stood when he noticed his master was on the move. He shook his long, woolly fur of the dust off the floor and trotted up to Toby's side, panting loudly.<p>

"_Toby, your better finish homework! Don't spend the entire night drawing again!"_

"I knooow, Mother!" He didn't stop. He just wanted to in his bedroom.

"_You hear how he speaks to me nowadays, Robert?!"_

"_He's probably just tired, honey. You know how active teenagers can be."_

"_I think he's picked up some poor habits from your daughter."_

"_But Sarah moved out a couple years a—"_

Toby slammed the door cutting off his parents' voices, rising up from the main level at that moment.

Listening to them further than what was already said was unneeded. He had overheard countless variations of that same conversation before.

His father was simple-minded in many ways. Robert wanted everything in life to run smoothly in the Williams Household. Less friction, the better for all. He had never really confronted the flaws slowly separating their family head-on. He preferred skirting the issues instead and requested mutual civility no matter how much resentment was trailing behind. In fact, that entire Williams side of the family acted likewise.

Toby also knew that his mother had suppressed a portion of jealously towards Sarah for several years prior to her leaving. It was pretty hard to miss at times. But he didn't care. Not only was Sarah a sibling and a third parent figure, she had become his best friend.

"What are you reading?"

His sister's presence suddenly occupied the space.

Speak of the devil.

"History," he scoffed, barely reacting to her unexpected visit. "I'm failing it."

"How could you be failing? I thought you were in all advanced classes. Everyone knows you're Karen's darling prodigy."

"Yeah, and that's why I'll probably be shipped off to Harvard Law after high school by her instead of the Massachusetts College of Art I heard about."

Not that he planned to attend college at all. Human academics were so flavorless.

"Well...it's the present you should focus on now." She replied, stretching out her hand to him. "Come."

Toby threw his textbook aside on the bed and clapped his palm in hers so she could haul him up.

* * *

><p>The metal chains clanked miserably when either Curtis or Craig were forced to change positions as they lounged in defeat against the rocky wall.<p>

They certainly tried every tactic they could think of to break their links apart.

And each trial was thoroughly unsuccessful; since the chains seemed to be alive in some way and were able to regenerate themselves.

How long has it been?

Minutes?

Hours?

Days?

Were their parents out there somewhere searching for their missing bodies?

"...How's captivity treatin' you, Hawthorne?" They both startled at the sound of another's voice besides their own. Soon a small magickal flame emerged upon a stony column nearby, giving light to a new silhouette crossing their arms coolly. "You know, I guess you _are_ the type to land in prison...I just thought it would've been later in life."

"Who is it?" Craig demanded, glimpsing sideways down at his brother.

Curtis squinted through the dimness. "Williams? It's you, isn't it? Okay, look—you had your fun—you win—now get us the hell out of this place! What is this, anyways, live roleplaying-gone-too-obsessive?"

"You're in the custody of the Goblin Watchgaurd," declared Toby, "in other words—no, I can't, sorry."

"This is so unfair!"

"Life's not fair, Curtis."

"—Well then, Little Brother, what's the verdict?"

Heads snapped towards the opposite side of the cave, where the Goblin Queen appeared.

"Whoa—where did you come from?!"

"Get used to it...," Toby smirked, "she does that a lot."

His sister strolled in closer, her silken layers gliding smoothly over the sands. "They are rather dull, annoying characters, aren't they?"

"He actually said I had to Run for these two?"

"Your brother-in-law has always been keen on people learning valuable lessons. So, I believe he expects you to consider taking responsibility for your supposed impulsive actions."

"But _why_ would I _want_ to save them? I honestly could live without them, if you catch my drift..."

"_Magick changes people, particularly those who are unprepared for its impact."_ Sarah replied in a language which sounded like gibberish to Curtis and Craig. _"They could lose their memories, or their minds altogether...although I am not sure if they have much of a mind to lose... Who could say if they were saved, they would return home the same. Perhaps...you would be actually doing them a true favor by refusing to help."_

"Wait a minute," Toby carried on in modern-day English, in contrast to her Woodland Elvish. "If your saying that now...how did I differ back then?"

"You're blood." she highlighted. "They're nothing but...a pair of lowlife goons. Plus, you Wished them to _me_, not the King."

"And?"

"Playing the game does not mean you have to _best_ the game."

His sister was proposing he should Run the Labyrinth with no effort put forth to reach its center.

"Really...that could work?"

"Let's say, you get to the castle. But if I was to grant you a special gift in exchange for my victory, tempting you—to stay Underground, for instance—no one is here to say you have to decline the offer."

Toby glanced back at the Curtis and Craig. The poor blokes were so lost beyond words. Their furrowed brows made it look as if they were trying to solve a ten-step math problem written out on an invisible chalkboard in front of them without a calculator at hand.

They didn't know the rules. They didn't know the story. They didn't know how much was at stake for them.

However, he couldn't deny they'd make fine goblins.

Or if Jareth deemed them too old to undergo the transformation—they'd still become slaves at the very least—maybe tossed into the Bog.

He smiled discreetly at the Queen. "Sis, isn't that a little insane as it is?"

"Oh, Tobes, it's only forever."

"I guess that wouldn't be long at all."

Especially if that meant spending it with his future nephew. And his parents.

With his real family...

* * *

><p><strong>Outside ReferencesInfluences used: **

**A Pair of Lyric Epistles to Lord McCartney and His Ship**** by ****Peter Pindar Esq.**

**Alice in Wonderland**** by Lewis Carroll**

**Through the Looking Glass**** by Lewis Carroll **

**The Real Alice**** by Anne Clark Amor **

**The Goblins of the Labyrinth**** by Brian Froud **


	41. Regarding Pegasi

When her eyes met Jareth's as she entered the Throne Room, he causally cocked his head to the high-backed chair waiting for her on his left. Sarah strolled over to settle herself in her assigned seat, and as she did so, the Council members present during this time seated themselves in the remaining chairs placed in order about the room. Naturally, Toby lowered himself on her other side.

Afterwards Jareth motioned Lord Elric to take center stage, accompanied by his wife, the water Nymph, Ashlyn along with their cohorts.

"My new Queen," Elric's violet eyes sparkled with a certain kindness, letting her know that he could be completely trusted. "We, the Mages of the Black Wings, come before you here tonight in regards to a special and personal wedding gift."

Although this didn't prevent Sarah's stomach to grow hot with tension, not knowing why she was directly singled out then. _Oh boy._ _What could they possibly—?_

With that, Ashlyn and her sister Iris, held their arms up towards the main doors as the others had mysteriously stepped outside. And within a few passing moments, the walls were filled with a steady clacking beat, like many pairs of high heels boots marching upon cement.

But wait, the sound was coming from _hooves_.

Being pulled back into the room by silver ropes in the hands of the visiting lords, was a young stallion, a maturing colt. She allowed her jaw slack a little at the surprise. At _her_ surprise.

"We offer our newest steed in the herd we have been raising."

The colt was the most handsome horse Sarah had ever seen. He was purely black save for his sleek nostrils, and two hind legs—which were solid white from the coronet to the hock, speckled with grey.

"Did you know about this?" she muttered to Jareth.

Jareth smirked in response, pushing at her elbow, signaling her to stand as well. "Go. It's customary to accept your gift, my love."

The colt's round, deep dark eyes studied her profoundly when her palm finally made light contact with his velvet muzzle.

"We named him Shadowfax. He seems to approve of your companionship," observed Elric swifly, "We thought he might. That was why we decided to see if our prediction could be true."

"Why, what's wrong with him?" Sarah replied, as she began to move to the steed's side, running her over his withers.

The lords gently chortle amongst themselves. "Nothing is per se, _wrong_ with this one," he said humanely. "It is just...it has been a very long period of time since we bred one so..._spirited_, which gave us some toil in the beginning."

Ashlyn joined through reason. "They say that a steed can have its way of reading their rider's soul. That is why sometimes a steed will attempt to buck its rider off its back since it does not approve of the rider's character. On the other hand, if the steed believes that its rider is a kindred spirit, then there will be harmony. You both have fire in your hearts... Fortunately, he evidently finds you to be a good match. He is now yours to wield and train in the upcoming months."

Sarah delicately smiled to herself, then said, "Thank you, gracious Mages. I can't even put into words how incredible this is."

They bowed their heads in gratification.

Though Sarah's hand soon reached the bottom of the muscular shoulder and her features creased wth confusion. There was a bump where her gentle strokes had ended.

_A cyst?_

Was this horse cancerous by chance?

Instinctively she checked the other shoulder, and there too was a bump, the same shape, size, and location.

Elric concluded the conversation by stating, "And once he reaches his second year, he will grow into his wings."

Oh, well, that made a whole lot more sense.


	42. Leipreacháns

**In honor of all those little red-jacketed cobbler shoe makers dwelling somewhere out there.**

* * *

><p>The weather across the state of Michigan was remarkably warm this time of year. Woolen sweaters were still a common necessity, but winter coats were again stored away in spare closets for the rest of the season.<p>

Sure, it was not exactly Springtide, yet, the last layer of snow had generously melted away, letting masses of green to show.

"Sarah!" Toby had cried out suddenly from somewhere across the park, his tone laced with joy.

They both turned while passing over her favorite bridge to see the eight year old sprinting towards them, with his hands cupped together as if he was carrying something that he didn't want to slip away.

She bent forwards to meet at his level. "What is it, Toby?"

Toby unfolded his hands a bit to reveal his exciting discovery. "Look at the rocks I found! Aren't they cool?"

He was cradling a small mound of shining pebbles in his hold. Wait—not pebbles—_nuggets_.

Gold nuggets.

"Toby, where did you get that gold?" The King demanded before Sarah had time to process a response.

"Over there, by the woods," the boy pointed his finger at the heavier line of forest bordering the gravel walkways Sarah had been guiding him along all morning. "There's whole pot of these inside a hollow tree trunk. And I saw a rainbow! A real one, up close! It was touching the ground!"

"Jareth...what? Why so tense all of the sudden?"

"That gold is bewitched. It's meant to sway luck to extreme measures—the good and the unfortunate."

"Bewitched? By goblins?" Sarah asked cynically.

Jareth flashed her a pressing look. And she returned a confused look, trying to catch up on the unspoken details.

Then, it dawned on her—

"Oh. Oh...oh, oh no! No, Toby, put that back!"

Her little brother's lips curved down into pout, being totally out of the loop of their understanding. "Why?"

"...He _did_ find it with his mortal eyes, impressively enough." Jareth murmured into her ear. "By Fae decree, it's now his to store away."

"But, won't they come looking for it?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not. It depends on the individual owner. Whoever it is, will be forced to grant him three wishes in exchange for so-desired release."

Sarah groaned. "Of course."


	43. The 21st Day

**Hello again, readers. Having some slightly Darker!Jareth and a little more bit of Robert for a change of pace...**

**And it's also my birthday today, so I guess...I'm personally celebrating right now by updating one of my favorite stories!**

**(In this one, I pictured Sarah resembling Arwen during the closing White City Coronation** **scene in R.o.t.K.)**

* * *

><p>It was the 21st day of the third month again. An important day granted many titles.<p>

Ēostre, Ostara, Time of Aries, Spring Equinox, Springtide, Springtime, A New Green Day, A Fever Pitch. Or whatever term was personal favorite for the standard individual.

It was also the day in which, he would let her out for the forthcoming warmth that would spread across the lands—

* * *

><p>Robert had been restless the whole night long. He quietly sat at the kitchen table, clutching a barley-emptied cup of heated milk, left leg fidgeting endlessly, barefooted, dressed in loose checkered pajamas pants, a grey t-shirt and his heavy navy bathrobe. The line of his jaw was carelessly unshaven. His dark eyes strained with long-tern anxiety and fatigue, continued to shift eagerly to the calendar handing above the adjacent counter.<p>

_Today. _

She was coming home today. Please, let her come home today! She just _had_ to come home today. That's what he said...the traditional first day of spring.

The circumstances also had their way of causing the preceding months to be a part of the longest and worst winters Robert could recall.

His paled achy hands lifted to massage his temple. His head pulsed harder underneath the pressure of the questionable wait.

It would almost be a full year since she had been taken away. It wasn't even that long after they had left Sarah home to babysit. Karen was at the market, Toby began crying fanatically without rhyme or reason, there was lightening, Sarah's bedroom door had randomly slammed shut and locked her in. He remembered how hard he fought to open it, how much he screamed, asking what was happing. He remembered her pleading...pleading to someone who was in the room with her. Pleading to them, saying she would go with them if they would just wait a minute.

"_By the first day of a traditional Springtide, you shall see her." _The stranger foretold after he was let in.

And then he took her by the hand and disappeared into the mystery tunnel.

"_I'm sorry,"_ she whispered with a tear-streaked face...

But as he had lunged forward to reach them, there was no dark tunnel to run into.

Just her old mirror...showing nothing but his sad, chest-heaving, captivated reflection.

He had become haunted by the dreaded memory. Withdrawn and utterly struck with grief for the...living elsewhere.

A decent parent should _never_ be forced to face such a tragedy. And what was more, his daughter was not dead. She was still _alive_...there...somewhere, he couldn't even apprehend _where _exactly she lived...and he could not do a single thing to remove that fact.

Robert was dealing with forces beyond the barriers of his Catholic background.

He was still in shock by the authenticity, or really, was _inexperienced _with what the fortune teller he secretly visited for lingering answers had called, "_Magick, Robert, with a K. Real forces of it, without the smoke and mirrors."_

* * *

><p>He lost track of the hours slowly passing him by.<p>

Though, It was exactly noon when the floors of the William House gently quaked.

And located in the midwest of America, where earthquakes were hardly common experiences, Robert instantly figured it was a cue. He snapped out of his half-dead state and bounded up the stairs to Sarah's bedroom, nearly stumbling into it.

This was the first time he had stepped foot another in her room since her capturing.

That tunnel had returned!

Swirls of glitter and feathers rushed into view.

And two familiar silhouettes, strolling side by side, were coming forth from the vast shadowy opening. Her raised hand in his, as if he was ecorting her to grand party of some sort.

He in elegant black armor, and his very daughter now robed in a beautiful Celtic Queen-cut gown of soft greens and yellows, patterns of vines and blossoms etched into the material. A matching jeweled headpiece crowned her hair, that currently fell in even longer dark waves down her front.

"Hello, Daddy." she greeted then, shimmering green eyes calm and breathtaking. "We're back, just as promised."

Robert had to gather every once of willpower he could to keep his knees from giving out out on him. _"Oh my God." _

So many feelings coursed through his blood afterwards, he couldn't label them when she moved foward to embrace him.

"Don't speak her name." the King reminded her father at that moment, firmly and steadily. "It is forbidden to the tongue of your kind. If you do, the pact will be instantly broken and she will not be able to return here to you ever again."

Robert then pulled his only daughter, his firstborn, closer into his chest, nodding feverously. His was voice thinned and breathy by the overwhelming wonder and gratitude. "Okay, I won't...okay...just to have her back home, I'll do anything, anything you say."

He bowed their way in a formal manner. "Stay well, my Queen. When the last orchid peach of the season is harvested, I shall retrieve you."

"Yes, I will."

Robert's hope shattered. Before he knew what his body was doing, he caught his daughter's wrist and pushed her further behind him as if to protect her. "Wait...you're taking her back? You kidnap her a year ago and now she can't stay home? How could you be taking her back?! Get away from her, you freak of nature! This game of yours ends now!"

"No, Daddy—"

It was a little too late though.

Sarah swallowed as Jareth's eyes grew very dark, nearly black as he straightened himself. The air hovering them produced a rather dense surge of hostility and vexation. So dense in fact, the ceiling surface above them vanished behind a cloak of thunder clouds forming indoors.

A phantom wind picked up, brushing against their hairs.

"Sarah...would you please step outside for a moment?"

Her knowing stare fleetingly connected with the King's, before she turned away. Her overall passive expression however, had not revealed any sadness for parting with him, but it was not extremely joyful either. "I'll be in the Den... Farewell, Goblin King."

Once alone with her father, Jareth had began his small teachings. "Firstly, a Raping is not necessarily a kidnapping. Not during this Under Age. After the Rape of Persephone, it was made into more of a fixed law in order to prevent less chaos. _Eat our food by free will, and you shall never truly part from this Realm. _Your daughter bit into the Labyrinthine Original Fruit last fall. No one downright forced her to do so. She could have tossed it away, but she didn't. Therefore, she became fully bound to my domain as the next Autumn Equinox approached. I had no choice but to act. You should be _thanking_ me, human...if I hadn't taken her on the very day the Fates had set...she would have lost her mortal soul altogether."

Robert wondered if he would ever wake from this house-spinning-down-through-Oz dream.

It was beginning to unravel his sanity.

* * *

><p>For someone so young in this era, she carried herself and with an amount of grace and dignity Robert could only guess women twice her age would strive to demonstrate.<p>

It amazed him as a father, to observe his teenage daughter in this new light. For he wasn't sure if he should been proud about this, or worried for her mental health more than he already had.

It was still _her_...the girl he raised on his own for a while, he could see it...but she also was...grown beyond her years...changed.

Enhanced, somehow.

Other girls in her previous classes were still busy probably attending wild parties, or driving to movies, swimming at the local pools, sneaking out their houses to meet with the boys their parents disapproved of. Or _something. _Doing something other than...acting as if she had just arrived from Buckingham Palace a centry back.

He watched her take in her surroundings from the doorway, her fingers brushed along various objects while she slowly circled about the Den, sensing the stillness of the house—before she asked him a question that caused a swift bolt of emotional pain to his ribs. "It's so quiet here. Where are Toby and Karen?"

"Gone," was all he could register to rasp out he way. "You step-mother is living at her mother's for now. She took Toby with her. Things between us...grew a little difficult after the incident. She thought I'd lost my mind."

"...I see." Her eyes fell, lips parting into meek smile. "I was hoping I could see him. I thought we all could hand-paint eggs together. Faeries love to collect them for their Reels...that, and feet of white hares."

Faeries? Painted eggs? Reels?

"...We can...think of something and call them later." He cleared his throat. "But right now, I need to talk to _you_. I want to...know does this man...he treats you right? I have to know he treats well at least."

"He...acts as my mirror. When I'm kind, he's kind. When I'm cruel, he's cruel."

"That's horrible!"

"That's fair, actually."

"But you're saying he hurts you, doesn't he?"

"No, he has never struck me, I promise. I meant, it's only our occasional harsh words that cause the most friction at times...both of us can be quite stubborn."

"And, other than _words..._does...he...? Ah..." her father trailed off with a nervous tone.

She grasped what he was asking about nonethless. She knew her father well enough. If there was no physical abuse taking place—then were there yet certain levels of physical contact?

Although she would only offer him a blunted answer for the sake of privacy, "Yes, we share a bed as King and Queen."

Robert looked progressively distraught and unconvinced.

He did not know how to measure the true functionality of his daughter's _relations_ with her captor all this time.

Then she vowed to him, "He loves me. I know on the inside, he hates when I'm miserable just as much as you would."

"But, Sa—uh, sweetheart, you're sixteen! _Sixteen_. Do you even know what love is? Do you what you're _doing?_"

"It's an entirely different world across the stars, Daddy. Compared to one's power and knowledge, age has no real meaning," she corrected him, reaching up to place her delicate hand over his that had finally cupped her cheek desperately. "I will always be _your_ little girl, but I am _his_ Queen, too. What can I tell you to make you feel better about this...? I miss being with my family every day, I do with all my heart, and it's very hard for a parent to let a child go...but I am _not_ unhappy there. I had the time to adjust."

"I just want you here with us."

"You have me now...up until the Autumn Equinox."

Robert opened his mouth to protest once over, though she was quicker to cut him off. "Don't fret until you really feel the need to fret. Please enjoy my company while you can."

And with that, Robert smiled a little, bending to her suggestion.

However, deep within, he sensed there would be another long and severe winter along the way, simply waiting for him once she's gone again.


	44. Past Roots and Future Predictions

**Here, finally another chapter!**

**I've been on Spring Break and then I was basically on bedrest with a bad cold the whole week afterwards. **

**But now, I'm back. Enjoy.**

* * *

><p><strong>1964, Spring<strong>

"_Mirror, mirror on the wall...who is fairest of them all?" _Linda recited the line quietly to herself, as she groomed her long midnight tresses. Her eyes shined a rich amber color beneath the flickering candlelight. She let out a sigh next, studying her reflection longingly in the small oval looking glass which was gradually rusting around the edges. "It's me, is it not? Me, who may live in a golden hall?"

The one response Linda had been granted at the moment, was merely her own graceful smirk.

But then—Linda's sense of peace was instantly shattered once the trailer door creaked open, and with a harsh snap, it slammed shut again.

In climbed her mother, clad in her usual colorful nomad skirting and cream-tinted cotton blouse; the Celtic knot tattoo plainly visible just above her left breast. Little silver hoops trailed down the curve of her right ear, and the crown of her similarly dark head was covered by a matching scarf.

Linda knew she resembled Emalia Authorsblood a great deal. They were mother and daughter, and everyone could see it. Everyone always found the need to point it out repeatedly.

Save for their eyes though, of course. Instead of the common doe brown that Linda bore, Emalia possessed the most striking eyes of emerald green. That gave Emalia extra attention in large crowds, even more sex appeal. And where as Linda was concerned, the image of a fair maiden with darkened hair and bright-colored eyes was agonizingly _idealistic_. Dark hair and darker eyes like hers in contrast felt too ordinary to her. Linda privately envied her mother for that, further despising the fact that she had inherited her eyes from another branch of their family line. And from what she'd gathered, this simple detail made her the first Authorsblood daughter in three generations ever to be born without their typical green eyes.

"Linda," Emalia greeted suddenly, "have you completed your chores for the day?"

Linda huffed dramatically and retracted her hand, dropping her antique jeweled comb down to her lap. "Yes, Mother, I did."

"Cameron is ill with the fever yet. Were you kind enough to help her bathe?"

"Yes," Linda snapped again. She would rather have forgotten the memory of practically being forced to assist, let alone _touch,_ the Bearded Lady nude altogether.

"Have you cleaned out the lion pen?"

Linda only rolled her eyes this time. She detested pampering those horrid beasts, no matter how old and tame they really were. The smell was still dreadful. "_Yes_, Mother."

"And have you helped the jester children with their makeup for their final act tonight?"

"_Yes_,_ Mother!" _Finally facing Emilia with an angry whirl of her body, with a vivid fan of her own summer dress, Linda's glare was good and set.

"Alright, calm down." replied Emalia, sensing her daughter's temper was inflating by the minute. "Your aura will grow cloudy if you keep that up... Now, get to bed soon. We're leaving the town early morn."

Linda had stomped her foot now upon hearing such news. _"But, Mother, that's not fair! We just moved here!"_

"Linda Guineth Authorsblood! You know very well the Sideshow does not remain in one place for too long."

Realizing that no remark would change this truth, Linda pouted, chucking the comb sideways to some random spot on the floor, and then she stormed past her mother back towards the narrow sleeping cabin. "One day soon, you wait, I'll leave this spectacle of freaks," she fussed loudly, "and I'll be famous, and wealthy, instead of living like a rotten gypsy!"

Emalia's fists rose to her hips, coolly following her daughter's trail. "Don't you go throwing a fit this home again, my beautiful scorpion. You remember what creatures of the realm below do to certain naughty children...? And besides, where would you go? We do not have any living relations or friendly connections outside of this show. I'm sorry you feel this way, but except your life for what it is right now. Want what you have first before you chase the dreams that dangle themselves before your eyes like forbidden fruit."

"Don't deny me, Mother, don't deny my dreams! I'm no child, you hear?" Linda crossed her arms while she flung herself onto her bunk. She clutched her purple feathered pillow to her front.

"You're only _fourteen_ years of age, Linda—"

"And, if you _cared_ to recall, Mother, I'll be _fifteen_ in three days."

_Great Odin._ Emalia exhaled heavily. Perhaps she would have to meditate longer this night. "...Either way, Linda, you have no way to support yourself even to reach those dreams. There will be no one out there, who will just serve them over to you on shining crystal platter without a cause or cost."

A knock rattled against the trailer's exterior, utterly cutting off the argument. The rising tension between them stilled while they waited to see who the visitor was.

"Lady Faerie Whisperer?" The voice belonged to Lottie, the youngest female knife thrower. "The Ring Master would like to meet with you!"

"Thank you, Lottie! I'll be there but in a moment!" Emalia called out in return, and then she transmitted her attention back towards her daughter before she exited the trailer once more for the evening. "Please, go to sleep now. You'll need to be rested for the move."

* * *

><p>When she had been left alone once again, Linda rolled over, screeching into the folds of her top quilt. And sometime later, she decided to carry on with her personal reserved act. Practice made perfect anyways, correct?<p>

She drew away from the bedding to search for her precious comb. Linda knelt down and scanned the flooring carefully, eventually feeling regret snake through her veins. She shouldn't have thrown it so carelessly and not watched it to see where it landed.

_Ha, there!_

Finally a tiny glint, a shimmering bead of...something caught her gaze. One of the jewels popping out from the shadows, Linda supposed.

But as she crawled forward to reach behind the dresser, she felt a pinch of teeth upon her fleshy fingertip.

And it was not teeth from the comb—and neither was the peculiar gleam.

Linda yelped, withdrawing her fingers quickly. The sight of her own blood definitely drove her to her breaking point now.

She had gotten bit! _Again!_

"Stay out of my way, you little pests!" she cried when she stood and lunged back onto her bunk, snatching up a rag along the way. "You'd think Oberon would keep better track of his stupid pixies!"

She spent time dabbing the wound clean. "Mother never has this problem with them biting her!" she grumbled.

Then again...Emalia would indeed, never be bitten. She was not troubled by Faekind, not like several others were. She was Emalia the Wise, the Sideshow's Tarot Reader, the Faerie Whisperer.

Faeries chose her to be one of their messengers. They chose her to see into their realm.

* * *

><p><strong>1965, All Hallows Night<strong>

Another year had past.

Linda panted, swiping the sweat and glitter off her brow with her sleeve when she parted from the main tent. The Ring had been so busy that night. The widespread applause echoed around the stands, and it followed her outside.

Then stepping into the trailer home labeled _'Authorsblood,'_ she had discovered her mother hovering over her ancient-looking crystal, resting upon its small golden stand resembling a curled dragon's paw.

Linda became more interested.

Usually amongst gypsies and other branches of Pagan practitioners, the Seeing Crystal was rarely used, _because_ the tool was so old. There were more modern techniques of Scrying in this age. It also took more inner power to connect with it since after all, Crystals were originally used to contact with the Divine. Though when it _was_ used, it was for something very _significant._

And Emalia was rather deep in thought, contemplating whatever answer or image she was currently deciphering.

"What do you see?" Linda inquired, approaching the booth with a natural mood.

"It's hazy...but I see a fated crown given," her mother presented lightly, "...a Throne."

"Throne?" Linda's head tipped. Emalia's words watered Linda's little amount of curiosity, and it rapidly and eagerly began to bloom. "Who's Throne, Mother?"

Emalia's stare was steady, never once glancing away from the curved crystalline surface. "..._You_ are related to this future Throne, dearest..."

Linda stared passionately. "Am I?"

* * *

><p><strong>1966, Summer<strong>

_"Lottie! Stephen! What's with all the commotion here?"_

In wonderment, Linda had called forth to the pair of siblings (who were the closet things to what Linda considered friends in the show.)

Stephen was the first to turn around, a cigarette hanging out from the corner of his mouth. "Hey, sweetheart. Apparently, we're having a very special guest coming to the Ring tonight. To check out its real potential, you know?"

"Like a screen writer, a director?" Linda's exterior lit up at the thought.

"Don't know for sure," Stephen drawled, "I think the Master mentioned some petty media producer or another."

"A_ producer...?"_ Linda echoed, feeling her own face lighting up. "Even better. Yes, this is my moment!"

Lottie stumbled when Linda had abruptly ripped herself apart from her side, dashing away. "Wait, Linda, for what!"

All they heard was Linda's lovely laugh flow out as they received her reply. _"For my dreams!"_

Lottie glanced at her older brother in confusion. Stephan shrugged. "Silly girl, she always had been. Carnival life was never her thing, really."

* * *

><p>"The producer's name happens to be Roy—Sir Roy Ellé. Mother, don't you see? Roy Ellé—it sounds like <em>royal! <em>My dreams! I am going to meet him after the act since he's looking for new clients! "

The vision was almost too much. Linda was walking on air.

She'd go with Roy's company, build a career for herself in stage theater, meet a city gentleman, perhaps get married, buy a big white house wih a dog, and she'd truly be the Queen of it All.

"Your reading last year was perfectly spot on, Mother! Oh, the symbolism is so clear now! This is the path to that Throne that you saw...I was related to it, right? This is my chance!"

Emalia returned a stern, knowing look. "...Well, I guess I can't stop you from making this choice, my dear—but—nothing is never as it seems."

That was the hour, when he Fearie Whisperer decided that her daughter Linda would have no other option but to learn from her own mistakes and future regret. Linda would be forced to learn the truth on her own.

That the Throne shall be hers not.

For the Throne was taken by an Authersblood daughter...but that Queen had the line's traditonal green eyes.


	45. Horror Scenes

He was Aboveground this winter's night, visiting the Williams house.

Her parents were out to another dinner show and Toby was with Karen's mother for the week.

No one of this world knew Sarah had a mystical King secretly spending time with her on occasions like these...then again no one ever learned of her Labyrinthine Quest two years ago, either. Thus what was never told, couldn't bring forth any damage. At least, for the time being.

It was now hours after sunset. All the lights were turned off, causing the walls to become cold, black surfaces which seemed to expand on into space.

King and fair maiden were settled beside each other on the living room sofa with Sarah's knees bent up over the cushions. She wore a heavy green knitted sweater that was nearly too long for her limbs and a pair of grey bulking socks on her slender feet.

Jareth's arm rested behind her, reclining along the back edge.

The only source of light they had, came from her flashing television set before them.

Why Sarah encouraged him to engage in _this_ particular hobby was beyond him, since he was seeing nothing but very long minutes of red violence, slashing, spearing, shrill screeching music, and half-naked women screaming their heads off in the face of their ultimate demise.

Lightly leaning towards his warmth, Sarah felt him heave in another sigh, "...I shall never understand the nature behind your so-called _Horror Films_."

The stalking villain had just popped out from the basement closet, cutting down his next victim as the King muttered this—meanwhile, Sarah's fists clenched more tightly in her lap then, most likely to prevent herself from jumping at the startling scene.

Her inquiring eyes never left the screen, hearing him. "It's almost over and you're complaining about it now?"

"It's never smart to split up," he emphasized. "It's not accountable to go check on a barking dog outside in the open when the power unexpectedly goes out. No, they shouldn't follow the strange whispering right into the old, gloomy wine cellar. These characters are so dull and reckless, and utterly naïve to the killer's plans. I actually find myself lacking sympathy for their horrid deaths. They wouldn't last two minutes in the Labyrinth, even in the _daytime."_

She couldn't help smiling at the idea. "But, Jareth, that's sort of the whole point to these movies—even though you assume the characters will get washed out one by one throughout the story, it's almost ironically humorous. You don't have to take the whole thing too seriously. Besides—my friends and I just watch these sometimes to feel the adrenaline rush, you know, the suspense of it all?"

His following chuckle was so low, that it sounded like a mere purr. "Hm. I see...it's all for the rush."

And their mild conversation hung there, not quite finished or continued. They simply watched the rest of the movie up till to the end credits.

* * *

><p>Sarah yawned, stretching her legs out before she stood to pull the tape from its machine. "See, Goblin King? It wasn't that horrible, was it?"<p>

Though once she slid the film was back in the empty case lying on the floor and she glanced up waiting to receive an answer...the sofa was completely vacant.

She scanned the area, but he was gone without a trace.

"Jareth?" she called. "Where are you?"

There was no reply, no sound. Just the gentle humming of the television screen, blank and blue.

Sarah cautiously made for the hallway. "Jareth, are you still here?"

She paused at the corner curiously. It wasn't like him to leave without saying farewell, or to mention another timespan when she could anticipate his next arrival.

Maybe he sensed something she hadn't and he was forced to return home immediately.

Shrugging it off, Sarah decided to get ready for bed. She figured he'd show up when he was able to.

_...Creeeaak._

At the middle step of the staircase, Sarah quickly spun on the spot, searching shadows lingering below her. Did one of the closet doors have a loose hinge?

Oh well.

_Wisp._

Sarah gazed sideways. A random rustle of the curtains?

No big deal.

After she finished brushing her teeth, Sarah suddenly spotted a dark shape hovering behind her in the mirror. Gasping, she whirled around a second time, heart thumping, toothbrush wet and dripping—but it happened to be her bathrobe, hanging somewhat-disorderly from the door's towel hook. Sarah didn't exactly remember putting it there—nevertheless, she felt great relief race through her veins.

Better a bathrobe than something else more horrifying, right?

"It's definitely bedtime," she reflected aloud, finally sauntering the short ways back and she laughed quietly at her own paranoia. "I'm on the verge of hallucinating."

She crossed the threshold to her bedroom and moved to shut the door for the night, when a figure hiding there in the darkness let out a menacing man-like, _"Garrrr!"_

Sarah squealed, feeling two arms encircle her torso, briefly raising her form off the floor.

Butterflies fluttered this way and that inside of her, looping about from the shock.

And while her captor tossed her onto the mattress, he chuckled. "Do you still enjoy the rush of horror now, dear Sarah?"

Sarah thrashed to remove the mass of hair out her eyes, so she could glower at his silhouette towering against the moon outside more efficiently. She pounded her hand into the pillows then out of confusion and fury. _"Dammit, Goblin King, that was not funny!" _

"Oh, no? I thought that was ironically humorous."

She wanted to shake him senseless for committing this ridiculous crime. He deliberately blew her opinion out of complete proportion, just to play with her head.

She lunged forward to grab his shirt, although instantly, he vanished from her reach for good—

His hollow laugh echoed around her for dramatic effect.


	46. Numb

Any college peer of Sarah's could have said that a nature hike, was a harmless notion on her Environmental Biology professor's behalf.

And at first it felt that way, too.

It was just another assignment. Find the next plant listed—identify it, roughly sketch it, categorize it, then document its location—that's all.

Though one little slice of unanticipated phenomena can change what seemed like a harmless environment into a setting of pure wonder and repulsion wrapped together.

Sarah strolled along a grassy stag-made trail, her climbing boots tapping lightly upon the dried patches of soil.

She hadn't realized what exactly triggered the surreal transition; nonetheless, the trees began to come closer together and the birds stopped singing. Her fingertips kissed the extending leaves as she silently went forward.

The clouded forest around her grew brighter...golden, and slowly faded from view, perfectly melted away into desert land.

Tall stone barriers coated in faerie dust now limited her path down to a single straight line.

Sarah's breaths trembled, eyes narrowing, straining for added focus.

She halted for a moment. Yes...undeniably, she knew these walls...

What was supposed to here again? Find the next plant listed. No, wait, find the Castle Beyond...no, find...

_"Williams!"_

Sarah turned, registering the voice calling her from somewhere in the near distance. It was her professor, Maggie.

"Don't roam too far from the crowd, Williams. Let's head back."

Sarah ran a hand over her ponytail, recovering her understanding of things. "Okay, s-sorry."

And then, the numbing feeling of walking into a vision-state was gone.


End file.
